


Studying Romances

by emmy_rose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmy_rose/pseuds/emmy_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan Parrish is a Resident Assistant (RA) and a Criminology Major Junior. Lydia Martin is a Freshman taking Sophomore classes in her Mathematics program. She also happens to live on his floor. Dating residents is against the rules, but rules are meant to be broken, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Move In Day

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on jordansmartins/heartlikeice. I have relocated from that account to here and apologize for any confusion that it caused.

Move In Day is a great day for most people - living on their own for the first time, in a new city without their parents, and they’re chomping at the bit to taste their newfound freedom. Jordan Parrish isn’t “most people”. He’s part of the small percentage of “other people” who hate Move In Day, because he has to work it. 

As a Resident Assistant at Stanford University, Jordan is responsible for making sure people get their room keys, find the dining hall, and get moved in. And once they’re moved in? Just call him Jordan the 5th Floor Babysitter, master of tracking down the smell of weed, writing reports at three in the morning, and organizer of fire alarm drills. 

And today, curbside patrol, helping the arriving families load their belongings into gigantic yellow carts.

The morning had been busy. Parents who wanted to beat the traffic had arrived the night before, hoping to move in their student and make it to lunch at a decent hour. Jordan had spent most of his morning ferrying carts between the check out table, cars, and the elevator, and had hardly any time to joke with his friend Clarke - whose first name he didn’t know, but any girl cool enough to kick his ass at fake beer pong would probably punch him if he used her first name anyway. 

Lunchtime arrived, and most of the cars had come and gone, when an SUV pulled up. A crowd of RAs had gathered, and there was a low wolf-whistle from one of his male colleagues as a strawberry blonde with supermodel legs and a killer leather jacket got out of the front passenger seat. Looking around, Jordan elbowed his way out of the crowd and rushed to help her with her bags before any of the other guys could. 

A good-natured “You’re a dick, Parrish!” followed him across the quad, and Jordan suppressed a smile. A smile that quickly faded when he saw two boys crawl out from the back of the SUV - one the personification of sunshine, all smiles and tan skin, and the other lanky and pale and all elbows and angles. He let himself hope she wasn’t dating either of them for a split second before he remembered - residents are off limits. Date your co-workers, date a student who lives off campus, date someone in the other end of California, just don’t date a resident. 

Jordan pushed the thought away as he approached the car and reached for a backpack that was sitting on the sidewalk the same time as the girl.

“I know college dorms are supposed to be a dump, but you didn’t need your own bricks to fix any holes in any walls,” he joked. “We have plenty of posters in the bookstore you can cover them up with.”

His comedy career was short-lived, unfortunately.

“Thanks,” she said curtly. “You must not have seen a bag full of textbooks before - doesn’t surprise me, with muscles like that. When was the last time you saw the inside of a classroom?” The bite of her words were softened by the sugar in her tone, and Jordan was stunned into silence. 

Lydia, be nice, he heard a woman say from behind a storage tub full of what looked like desk knickknacks and coffee mugs. So the girl was Lydia. It was a nice name.

Wordlessly, he pointed to the check in table and opened his mouth once or twice before the power of speech found him again. “The, uh, check in table is right over there. You can pick up your keys and get your roommate assignment there. I’ll- I’ll go get a cart, if you need one?”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia shoved a cardboard box of what could only be more books into his arms. 

“The boys can get the rest, if you and your mind-numbing muscles can manage that much,” she said with a smirk. “Scott, Stiles, you can get the rest and follow, right?”

She was clearly a girl who could give directions and assume they would be followed, and Lydia charged ahead towards the table. Jordan followed, praying the entire way to every universal power that she wasn’t in his building, let alone on his floor. 

It was a prayer that would go unanswered, because when they found her on the roster, someone had gone over her name with an orange highlighter - orange was his color. 

Lydia Martin was his resident, and she lived right across the hall from him.


	2. Getting Settled

Lydia rolled her eyes as her mother made yet another - five, at her last count - comment about the overly helpful and overly cute staff. Between the snarky comments from Stiles, the hopeful looks from Scott, and her mother, Lydia was ready to send them off with hugs and get down to unpacking her room. More than anything, she wanted to avoid her new RA and anything to do with him. And she wanted to call Allison.

Until she had met Allison, Lydia had never imagined going to college with anyone, never considered who she would want to live with and do pub quizzes with, rush a sorority, or anything that you did in college. Then she had met Allison and she thought she had found that person, until Allison had nearly died in that freak accident and decided to stay close to home for college. Lydia didn’t blame her, but she missed her, and knew Allison had wanted the whole college experience so Lydia was determined to tell her all about it and her best friend could live vicariously through her.

Two hours later, her boxes and bags and suitcases had been moved into her small bedroom, they had gone to lunch, everyone had said their goodbyes, and Lydia was laying on her bed with her feet propped up against the wall, dial tone echoing in the empty room.

 _Tell me all about it!_ , Allison squealed into the phone without greeting. It made Lydia smile, knowing that her best friend had been waiting for her call and was excited to hear about her life, interested to know what she liked and wanted and planned to do. It was what your best friend was supposed to do, not whatever the other girls in high school had done.

“The boys wouldn’t stop talking the entire way there,” Lydia chuckled. “I think Stiles regrets UCSF right about now, after seeing the campus. It’s really beautiful here, even if it is kind of cold, and my roommate hasn’t shown up yet, and my mom practically had hearts-eyes over my Resident Assis-”

She was cut off by Allison laughing and begging for details, and while Lydia didn’t really feel like talking about him, she would do it anyway. For Allison. 

“He looks like some protein-shake toting dudebro- no, not like super muscle-y but like he works out and he knows it and he knows you know it, you know? And he tried to be a smart ass about my books, and I don’t even know what I said to him - something about his body fat ratio matching his IQ? Or maybe I imagined that. I don’t even know, but it shut him up after that but not in a bad way and he lives across the hall from me because this is a co-ed floor and if he wakes me up with some rap music crap that he probably works out to I’ll probably scream.” Wow, she was out of breath. Lydia really wasn’t doing a good job of convincing Allison (or herself) that she didn’t care one way or the other what this guy thought about her, because he annoyed her enough that she did care. 

“But anyway, I start classes next Monday and I’ve got my second-year English class, some psychology elective that I haven’t checked out yet, and then Calculus and that’s it, and I’m going to go find my classes tomorrow and Greek Week starts the week after that, but I don’t even want to rush without you, I don’t care how good it looks on a resume!” she said with a sigh. 

A national sorority would look great, especially the ones that had connections in mathematics fields, but she didn’t want any girl friends other than Allison - not even her mysterious roommate, Christine. They had talked in the phone, made sure their room decorations didn’t clash, but that was about it. She was a nice enough sounding girl, but a Hospitality Major, nothing even related to Lydia’s field. 

_No, you’re rushing,_ Allison said in a tone that brooked no argument. _You’re going to rush, make friends with girls on the floor, have movie nights, make disgusting dining hall food taste good with Pinterest hacks, meet some nice boy who will worship your every move, and join an honor society. And Scott and I will come visit you every weekend we have free, okay?_

“I don’t want someone to worship me, I want someone to challenge me,” she murmured. She didn’t want another Jackson or an anti-Jackson. She wanted someone different.

After hanging up with Allison, Lydia started unpacking her bags, making her bed up with her new Anthropologie quilt, and hung pictures on the wall of places she wanted to travel, and set a framed picture of her and Allison, and an old black and white picture of her, her mother, and her grandmother on the desk. Christmas lights were wrapped around the bulletin board frame, and after spraying some body spray around to get rid of the “musty dorm” smell, things felt more like home.

As Lydia waited for her roommate to arrive, she set up her laptop with the wifi and surfed the web, scrolling through facebook until her vision blurred. Doors opened and closed up and down the hall, people laughed and shouted and sang, and after a few hours things were quiet. 

It was well after ten when a door opened across the hall - it had a squeaky hinge that set her teeth on edge - and then slammed shut. It seemed her neighbor was home. There was no obnoxious rap music, no noise at all.


	3. Exhausted

Jordan was dead on his feet and still wide awake. It sucked, but it wasn’t the worst thing - he had to get used to the late nights that he would be on call and as he lay on the floor, his body began to relax, hours of tension melting away. He hadn’t even made it to his bed. Looking up and to the right, Jordan groaned as his muscles protested. On a good day a college mattress wasn’t comfortable, but it looked like heaven tonight.

His head rolled back to a resting position and he stared at the ceiling. Just outside his door, the residence hall was coming to life with the sound of students. The boys who lived next door were playing Call of Duty - roommate bonding, no doubt - and two girls down the hallway sounded like they were getting ready for a karaoke party. How did they find where the parties were already? And WHY were there already parties? School hadn’t even started yet!

The train of thought left the station before Jordan could finish it or follow it off the tracks, and Jordan looked at his door while making a few movements as possible. He couldn’t hear anything coming from Lydia’s room across the hall. Was she in there? Had she already found a party? Or maybe she was out her boyfriend, one of the boys who had helped her move. Jordan found he didn’t particularly like that last idea, but it wasn’t any of his business, and if he wanted to keep his job it would never be his business. 

Eventually, Jordan pushed himself up off the ground and dragged his tired body onto his bed. Laying on his stomach, he plugged in his phone and started typing out a text message.

text to: clarke  
> are you still alive?  
> i’d say we should go out for beers but if residents catch us we’re fucked

He hit send and let his head drop onto the pillow with a “floof” sound. Clarke wasn’t exactly a fast texter, so he probably had a few minutes of peace. 

The response came unusually fast - she must have had her phone on her.

text to: jordan  
> i think so  
> unless this is heaven because netflix is playing  
> i sort of need this job, so no thanks. i’ve got wine coolers in the mini fridge though, if you’re manly enough to drink them

Manly enough? Really? He would have rolled his eyes if they didn’t hurt.

text to: clarke  
> first wine coolers, then you’ll have me helping you with spa night programs  
> get ye gone woman, and leave me to my manly pursuits!

Whatever those manly pursuits were, Jordan couldn’t name any at the moment. He’d have to come up with a few by the time he saw Clarke the next morning for breakfast though-

Breakfast. Where he’d probably see Lydia.

Was she a breakfast person? Or maybe she was just a coffee person and had a coffee machine in her room. Or maybe she wasn’t a morning person and didn’t eat until ten. Or maybe she went to the dining center right when it opened at seven. Wait, why was he worrying about this? Jordan couldn’t figure out if he wanted to see her, or wanted to avoid her that morning. 

text to: clarke  
> breakfast at the usual time. running then cereal and THEN program planning  
> get your brain ready

There. That meant that Jordan had a quick escape if breakfast got awkward. Jordan really hoped it wouldn’t get awkward, but with his luck, it would.


	4. Roommates

Lydia woke up to humming.

It wasn’t unpleasant humming. A little out of tune maybe, but whoever was humming wasn’t totally tone-deaf. Stiles was tone-deaf, and on a scale of one to Stiles, this was a… three. 

Rolling over, Lydia pushed her hair out of her face and slowly opened one eye, and then the other, to find that the source of the humming was a girl with brown hair wearing a red and pink plaid shirt with headphones in, hanging clothes up in the small closet on her side of the room. She froze as the newcomer - Christine, she supposed - turned around. She was mouthing along to a song, and seemed to be really into it. If that was the case, Lydia supposed she could forgive the humming. 

Still groggy from sleep, she reached for her phone and missed, knocking it off the window ledge where it had been resting and onto the floor with a dull thud. Christine’s playlist must have been between songs, because she jumped and turned around, pulling the headphones off and letting them rest around her neck, which was turning a light shade of pink up through her face.

“Oooh my god, I am so sorry!” she whispered, the loud sort of whisper someone uses when they aren’t sure how loud they were allowed to be. “Holy shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I swear. You’re Lydia right? Or have I been unpacking in the wrong room?”

Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Lydia held up a hand in a “pause” gesture. Her voice was rough with sleep as she said, “It’s fine. You did. I am. No you haven’t. Shower first, hellos later,” as she ticked the answers off her fingers.

Grabbing her shower tote, towel, and keys, Lydia shuffled out of the room and down the hallway, not sparing a glance at Jordan’s door. It was eariy enough, eight or so, and the bathroom was empty, which meant she had her pick of shower stall and all the hot water to herself. 

The scalding hot water woke her up, and as Lydia washed away the aches that came with her first night on a bumpy mattress, her head cleared enough to realize that this was real. She was in college, showering in a gross communal bathroom - sadly, no one was singing Titanium two stalls over - and she had a roommate. This was the honest-to-god college life, and it was her life now.

_Holy shit._

Shower over, Lydia wrapped herself in a fluffy bathrobe and towel dried her hair before heading back to her room. Still no signs of life on the floor, but she wasn’t exactly upset about that. 

Christine seemed to be done unpacking, and had moved on to making her bed, sans headphones. She looked up expectantly as Lydia walked in, and seemed to realize that Lydia needed to change, then pointedly looked away, giving her some privacy.

“Sorry I woke you up, again,” Christine apologized. “We were waiting for my dad to get home so he could drive with me and mom, and he runs on ‘dad time’ so he was like an hour late, and then we hit traffic, and it was hell, and then I got here late - and by late I mean at like five this morning - and had to practically beg someone to check me in. But I’m here and it’s all good, you know?”

During this entire monologue, Lydia had managed to get changed into regular clothes and hang up her towel, and had started making her bed by the time Christine peeked over her shoulder. 

Lydia settled on her bed as Christine started making hers, and she watched her new roommate. The girl was perfectly ordinary seeming, and didn’t seem crazy on the surface - not that decorating preferences were anything to go by. Sure, her bedspread was a little bright, and maybe there was a lot of pictures of chickens and ducks, but maybe she was a fan of Old McDonald. 

Before Lydia could reply, her stomach rumbled. The sound felt like it echoed through the empty room - or at least through Lydia’s empty stomach. Judging by Christine’s raised eyebrow, she had heard, and crossed the room to pick up Lydia’s student i.d. card.

Holding it out, she grinned. “Breakfast?”

Lydia unfolded her legs from where she had been sitting on the bed and took her card. “Coffee. And then maybe breakfast. But definitely coffee.”


	5. Gym Partners

Punching bags were fun, until you were one, and Jordan questioned why he had let himself be talked into sparring rather than running. The problem was, when you were the one punching the bags, they didn’t hit back, they didn’t bounce back and hit you in the face, and they didn’t smack talk you. And as far as Jordan was concerned, it was too early in the morning to be Clarke’s human punching bag. 

Jordan could hardly breathe, and he could hardly hear Clarke over the blood pounding in his ears. Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Jordan barely had enough time to block the throw that she had just aimed at him.

“Shut up and put up, Parrish.” God, Clarke was evil. She was grinning at him, and for a minute, he regretting picking her as his sparring partner. Sure, it was challenging, and kept him on his toes, but he had never met a girl who could kick his ass and still have enough air in her lungs to laugh at him after. 

“You owe me coffee after this, and not the crap the dining center tries to drown us in,” he panted. Sure, working out first thing in the morning was a great routine to have, but what was the point when you didn’t have any real reason to be up early?

A punch landed on Jordan’s ribs, followed by a kick to the back of the knee, and the next thing he knew, Jordan was staring at the ceiling. Clarke hovered over him, a wrapped up hand held out to help him up.

“I just handed you your ass on a silver platter, so I’m pretty sure you owe me. Coffee on a call night. Next time we’ll bet on holiday shifts, yeah?”

She hauled him upwards, and as Jordan found his footing he nodded, breathless, hoping she understood sweaty nodding as Bring it on. 

Since the students had just starting moving in the day before, he didn’t bother showering before they went to get breakfast, and used the opportunity to try and wedge Clarke’s head under his armpit - she was about the right height, and it was funny until she jabbed him just above his hip bone with her elbow. 

They parted ways after swiping their cards - Jordan towards the coffee and cereal, and Clarke towards the yogurt and fruit. He liked to tease her about the “health nut” section, and would ask her how many people had sneezed or coughed on it when she brought her bowl to the table, while he loaded up on coffee and frosted mini wheats. 

The dining center played the news on television screens around the room, and the quiet voices of morning reporters broke the silence that had settled in over the summer. Neither of them spoke at first, taking time to decompress, and slowly began commenting on the news, and then talking about move in day.

It was weird for Jordan to be talking about work with just one person, even Clarke. Being a part of the residential staff meant that you lived, ate, worked, and sometimes slept, with the same group of people for an entire month before school, and then during the year - including vacations. Having this much space and time to himself felt unnatural after spending so much time as part of a team, and when he heard sets of footsteps coming into the dining hall, he looked up, expecting to see his co-workers.

When Jordan saw who it was, he nearly choked on his coffee, and slid out of his seat onto the floor between his chair and Clarke. Shit shit shit, it was Lydia. And some other girl. Jordan hadn’t had a chance to apologize, or properly introduce himself, or do anything else potentially embarrassing the day before, he had been so busy - and right now, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Looking down at him, she raised an eyebrow. “It’s only the first week, Parrish, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet about being an RA already.”

“Not so loud!” He looked up at her with worry in his eyes, hoping they hadn’t attracted any attention. “That redhead is my resident! And she-” Jordan faltered, wondering how to explain to his friend that a resident had gotten the best of him, and on his first day. “-well, she’s my resident. And I sort of wish she wasn’t.”

There. He had said it. And Jordan was embarrassed, and hid his face between his knees so he wouldn’t have to see her expression. 

Clarke crowed in delight. “Oooh, this is rich. You’ve got the hots for a resident! Is she even 18 yet? Does she have any brothers to come after you if you fuck with her?”

All he wanted to do was sink into the floor in shame and embarrassment. Clarke wasn’t helping, and the longer they say there, the smaller his chances got of escaping without notice.

Jordan knew she was going to do one of two things - sit there and keep laughing at him, or help him get out of there. Beyond that point, there was no telling what she would do, and with the sinking feeling that they would be there for a while, Jordan reached up and felt around on the table for his coffee cup, grasping the handle and pulling it under the table with him. If he was going to be stuck here, he was going to be stuck with coffee, goddamnit. 

Above him, Clarke sighed. “Alright, Romeo, lets get you out of here. We have work to do, and I need you in one piece this year, not in a puddle on the floor with shoe marks all over you.”

Peeking above the table, Jordan saw the coast was still clear, and he grabbed Clarke’s arm, pulling her out of the dining center after him and into the safety of the open air.


	6. Extracurriculars

Everyone says that college flies by, but Lydia thought they meant in the big picture of “four years isn’t that much in the grand scheme of things so enjoy your last few years of relative irresponsibility”, but the past few days had been a blur and classes hadn’t even started yet. 

After that first morning of roommate bonding with Christine, Lydia came out of her self-imposed shell a little more. She started chatting up her floormates as they did their makeup and hair in the morning, judged blindfolded chip eating contests held by the boys down the hall, and stayed up late watching 90s cartoons on Netflix with Christine. 

Not one during those days did she see her RA, and didn’t hear so much as a sneeze come from his room - and the walls were so thin she didn’t doubt she would be able to hear that. Lydia supposed it was possible that he was busy, or wasn’t the sort of RA who wanted to make friends with his residents, or that they were just on opposite schedules. What didn’t occur to her was why she cared so much, and why she might actually want to run into Jordan. Why did she care if he made an idiot out of himself again, or wonder if she’d have another chance to sass him or if she would apologize instead? 

It wasn’t in Lydia’s nature to obsess over a boy - at least not since Jackson. She had quit that habit cold turkey, and had focused on school and not dumbing herself down. That drive had gotten her in to Stanford in the first place, and she wasn’t going to lose that now. She would not scan the table of residential staff during lunch to look for him, or try and listen for any sign of activity in his room as she walked by - at least not anymore. It had taken once or twice to realize what she had been doing, but once she had Lydia threw herself into making friends with Christine, finding her classes, and finding extracurriculars that didn’t involve shots or beer pong like most of her floormates. 

That drive carried her to the Activities Fair in the campus quad on an overcast Saturday morning - the last Saturday before classes started. 

Tabled lined the winding sidewalks and brightly pained poster boards advertised service clubs, language clubs, math and science clubs, honor societies, and Greek Life. There were even a few tabled for “Puppy Lovers International”, “Improv Society”, and at least one choir group and LGBTQ+ club. Most of them looked like casual social clubs, with the exception of the academic clubs, and Lydia was hesitant to join too many things, no matter how much they appealed to her. 

Remembering her promise to Allison, Lydia wandered towards the Greek Life tables. There were quite a few - a handful of national sororities surrounded by local and service sororities. Most of the tables had small crowds of girls surrounding them, with older girls in sweatshirts with brightly colored Greek letters tacked on them speaking animatedly, gesturing to pictures on boards and in books on display. 

The Kappa Alpha Theta table caught her eye, and Lydia tried not to look “too interested” as she walked towards it. She didn’t want to seem desperate, but this was one of the top national sororities in the area and when Lydia wanted something, she wanted the best. Kappa Alpha Theta had some of the best connections, and while it wasn’t connected with any Mathematics honors societies in particular, rushing and being accepted would go a long way towards building connections that could help Lydia in her career.

Another girl had seen the table, and they stopped in front of it at the same time. She wouldn’t meet Lydia’s eye at first - did she think she was competition? - and nearly missed hearing the girl’s name as they were greeted by one of the sorority sisters. 

“So, Lydia, Madison, what about Kappa Alpha Theta interests you? We have a wide range of community service projects we do throughout the year, as well as social events with other sororities and our sibling fraternity. And many of our members go on to live successful lives and careers that can also bring national acclaim in their fields!” The sister seemed too bright and cheery, but Lydia was already interested. These were the sorts of people she wanted to be around here - people who were driven to make a change and do some good, and be the best they could possibly be. This was the kind of environment she wanted. 

As the “please join us” speech wound down, Lydia took a handful of flyers and pamphlets about the sorority and found herself moving in the same direction as Madison, who also looked like she wanted to rush. The student center loomed larger as they walked towards it, and made small-talk about the rush events that were coming up that they would go to - it was required to go to at least three events and an informational meeting before the primary and secondary rush nights, including things like ice cream socials, a scavenger hunt, and trivia night. The details made her head spin, and for a minute Lydia thought that maybe it wasn’t worth it, and she should try something else. 

“Penny for your thoughts? Or are we supposed to be broke college students this early?” Madison joked as they entered the bookstore. Lydia smiled but didn’t laugh. She wasn’t inclined to share her thoughts with anyone at the moment, and shrugged. 

“It just seems like a lot, you know? And we don’t know what they’re looking for. There’s just a lot of choices, and it’s kind of...” Lydia trailed off into silence.

“Overwhelming?” Madison offered.

“Yeah. Overwhelming. I guess that’s what college is, though.”

Madison shrugged. “Well, yeah, it can’t be easy otherwise you wouldn’t learn anything. And if it was easy everyone would do it. That girl really seemed to like you though, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

There wasn’t an easy way to reply - either she agreed and lost a potential rush friend and sounded conceited, or she deflected and made herself seem like an easy target. Rushing was already making her paranoid, and suddenly Lydia wished that it was Monday morning and classes would start. At least then she’d have academics to keep her mind off of rushing for a little bit. 

In an unwarranted twist of fate in her favor, Christine found Lydia and Madison in the bookstore, and reminded her that they had a floor meeting before dinner, and if Lydia wanted to get her books she needed to hurry. Thankful for the interruption, she said goodbye to Madison and headed towards the textbook section. 

She didn’t need to tell anyone that she had gotten her books the day after she registered for classes, right?


	7. Meeting

After three days of hiding out in Clarke’s apartment and sleeping on her couch, Jordan was being kicked out. 

The nice thing about being at her place was that a) it was an apartment instead of a dorm room, b) it had it’s own bathroom, and c) there was zero chance of running into Lydia. The less nice things were that he was stuck using Clarke’s strawberry scented shampoo and the fact that she teased him on a daily basis about avoiding his residents - which wasn’t necessarily true. He was only avoiding one of them, and that was only because he had no idea how to talk to her.

Tonight his peace ended and it would be time for trial by fire. His residents were all moved in, and it was time for the “this is how we’re gonna do things this year” meeting where he would face them all at once. And damnit, he wouldn’t look at Lydia or do or say anything stupid. He would get through this and be professional, because that was what adults did and if he had any chance at being a cop he was going to have to learn to deal with difficult situations and this was nothing compared to what he would face. 

Jordan went to a late lunch with some of his co-workers and listened as they compared notes and residents. Watching them was like watching a nature documentary, only without the Morgan Freeman narration. These were people who we knew, but didn’t understand. He knew their names, and their majors, but not much else. Did they like this job, did they want to be here? Did they break the rules or were they goody two shoes? 

As he watched them, he tried to see how they interacted with each other. With RAs it was always a guessing game of who liked who, which building staff thought they were better than others, who was sleeping together, who broke up, and who hated each other from the beginning. One of the guys was making eyes at a girl across the table who was too busy reading something on her phone to notice. The sisters who worked together were talking about the dining center’s gluten-free offerings while one of them held hands with the “obligatory punk rocker staff member” - a pairing that was weird but just worked. The dudebro fuckboy of the staff was talking about which residents he planned to fuck - his words, not Jordan’s - and the list he had posted on his wall. And everyone else was just... There. 

It had taken Jordan until then to realize how few of them he trusted and how he really knew even fewer of them. Was Clarke his only friend? Did that bother him? Jordan sat through dinner, picking at his bowl of chicken and rice, contemplating things that made his head feel like it was going to explode until it was time for his meeting. 

As he stood in front of his residents, Jordan surveyed the faces of the people he’d be taking care of for the next eight or nine months. He couldn’t predict who the troublemakers would be, but hopefully this meeting would discourage some of that.

He cleared his throat to get their attention. “Hi. I’m Jordan and I’m your Resident Assistant for this year. I promise this will be a short meeting, there are just some house rules to go over.”

So far so good - no one was laughing at him and no one looked bored.

“If you have guests - anyone who doesn’t live in this building - who will be spending the night, please register them with the front desk. This is important because if we have a fire in the building, or anything where we have to evacuate, we need to know how many people are accounted for.

Secondly, there is no underage drinking allowed. That’s the official rule. I, however, am not naive, and know what happens on the weekends. If you’re going to drink, do it out of this building - out of housing in general, please - and do it safely. Have a friend with you to keep you safe, stay the night at a friend’s place if you can’t get back safely. 

Please remember that these are communal bathrooms. Get a lock for a locker if you want one, and for the love of god please don’t have sex in the showers. If public sex is your thing, do it where there’s less mildew.”

That drew a few laughs from the crowd, mostly from the corner of boys who were elbowing each other and smirking. 

“Last thing, I’m going to be meeting with each of you to set up a roommate agreement. Things might be sunshine and roses now, but I want to make sure things stay that way and having ground rules about noise after curfew, lights, and cleaning are important. I have a sign up sheet, and if you don’t sign up, I know where you live.”

The meeting was officially over after that lame joke, and Jordan spent a few minutes answering questions about mean plans, paying rent, gym memberships, and a few other things. After most of the residents had left to begin their Saturday night, Jordan picked up the sign up sheet and saw that while many people had signed up, Lydia and Christine hadn’t. 

“We’ve already negotiated a contract based on personality tests, school schedules, and the average amount of sleep a college student needs.” The voice came from behind him and Jordan turned around quickly and... looked down slightly. Had Lydia always been this short? Or had he just never noticed?

He was staring, slightly open mouthed, and tried to regain his composure. “Well it’s been a while since I’ve watched Judge Judy, but I’m pretty sure you need someone to witness the contract.” _No shit they needed someone to witness the contract._

Lydia, apparently, was thinking along the same lines. “Which is why I’ve copied the document, and have a copy here for you to sign and keep on file. You’ll see it’s a reasonable agreement, which provides recourse to address issues internally and with your assistance.” She smirked at him, clearly enjoying that she had taken him by surprise.

Taking the paper from her, Jordan looked it over. It was a surprisingly well written document, “Okay, Elle Woods, how about you tell me where you came up with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I researched. I am capable of reading books and Googling. If you have a problem, point it out. We aren’t making unreasonable demands or ridiculous rules. We get along, we’re adults.” 

Jordan hadn’t meant to insult her, or her intelligence, and he sputtered for a moment before finding the words. “Lydia, I think this is a well written document. You two have clearly worked things out. I’ve underestimated you, and I apologize. And I apologize for Move In Day. I probably looked like some drooling idiot. And tell your boyfriend I say sorry too.”

That last sentence was probably a bad idea, and as soon as it was out of his mouth, Jordan regretted it. 

“I’ll tell him,” she said slowly. “When I meet him.”


	8. Night Class

Christine was standing in the hallway outside their door as she waited for Lydia, tried to hold in her laughter. She failed, but covered up the resulting snort in a fit of coughing (earning her some looks from the girls from two doors down), which dissolved into giggles as Lydia walked towards her. She stepped aside as Lydia unlocked the door and followed her inside, still smiling.

“Well well well, Lydia Martin, I do believe you just flounced away. I didn’t know real people could ‘flounce’ until I just saw that. Actually, what was that?”

Lydia hung her keys on the hook by the door and felt her face flush. “What was what?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she busied herself with taking off her shoes, not looking at Christine.

“What do you mean what was what? That thing with Mr. Resident Assistant after the meeting. There’s no way you just handed him the contract. He said something to you, didn’t he?” 

“He called me Elle Woods,” she muttered, throwing herself on her bed and sinking into the pillows. “And I don’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing but I definitely don’t feel like Elle Woods because she was at least at Harvard and Elle Woods spent the first part of the movie obsessing over a guy and that’s not me... Anymore. I am post-Halloween-party Elle Woods, goddamnit, and he is not Warner or the other guy who actually likes her.”

Christine whistled. “That sounds like an awful lot of deep seated fictional character issues. And possibly relationship issues. And intelligence issues. Oh my god, don’t tell me you’re going to turn into that basket case roommate who works herself into a nervous breakdown before we even get to midterms,” she groaned. 

Lydia shook her head, which only served to dig her hair elastic deeper into her scalp. Reaching behind her head, she pulled her hair out of its ponytail and turned on her side to plug in her phone. 

“I promise if I’m going to have a mental breakdown I’ll give you plenty of warning. And if my Advanced Calculus class syllabus is anything to go by, I can probably pinpoint it down to a date and time,” Lydia said. 

___

Sunday and Monday came and went. Lydia went to classes, drank crappy coffee at the dining center, bought her first Stanford sweatshirt, and oogled one of her TAs with every other girl in the class and about half the boys. 

By Tuesday night she was feeling less nervous about actually going to classes and getting a seat. She had gone through one class that afternoon and was walking to her night class, “An Introduction to Ethics”. If the textbook, written by the professor, was anything to go by this class was going to be excruciating and full of narcissistic lectures. Lydia texted Stiles the entire way there, telling him about the class in question and tried not to laugh out loud at his diagnosis of every possible mental disorder the professor could have.

Ten minutes before class was due to start, Lydia walked into a cramped lecture hall where there were already a good number of students in their seats. She took one in the third row from the back, where several people were sitting. Just behind her was a girl she had seen sitting at the table usually dominated by staff in the dining center, and a few seats to her right was a girl from the floor above her. 

The minutes ticked by and students trickled in, filling the rest of the seats. Eventually the professor also joined them, and was scrawling information on the board that only the victims in the first row could read when the side door slammed open. A few people jumped but Lydia turned to glare.

She was glaring at Jordan, and between them was the nearest empty seat... right next to her. And judging by the choked laugh noise coming from behind her, his co-worker had noticed. 

Eventually, Jordan saw the empty seat and slid in next to her. The seats were so close together that their knees touched, and Lydia leaned out of the way to avoid getting hit by his elbow as he dug a notebook and the textbook out of his backpack. What was happening? Was this really her life? Lydia propped her elbow on the armrest farthest from Jordan and did what Allison would call a “literal facepalm”. She couldn’t look at him, and felt like there was a neon sign over her head saying YES HELLO I KNOW THIS BOY AND HE UNDERMINES MY PEACE OF MIND. 

The professor had started speaking and Lydia had to look up to start taking notes. During pauses between writing, she studiously looked anywhere but at Jordan and in the freezing lecture hall she could feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. She shivered involuntarily, and kept writing. This was not going to get in the way of getting her 4.0 GPA.

Class flew by in a haze of note taking, self centered lectures by the professor, and alternating waves of embarrassment and irritation. Soon, but not soon enough, it was over, and Lydia pushed past Jordan to get out of the room and back to her building before him. It was dark out, and Lydia wanted to pull the miniature flashlight out of her purse, but she didn’t want to stop and find it.

“Lydia! Lydia, wait up!” 

She kept walking until a hand closed around her wrist. Lydia jerked away and turned, ready to go Miss Congeniality on whoever it was, until she was staring Jordan right in the face - well, right in the collarbone. Looking up, she tried to glare at him, but felt her irritation falter. 

“What, Jordan?” she asked sharply.

“First, I’m sorry I almost hit you in the face trying to get my book out. Secondly, please let me walk back with you. It’s dark, you’re new, it isn’t safe,” he pleaded.

Lydia looked at him skeptically. “Are you asking as my RA or as a concerned classmate?”

Jordan looked baffled. He looked like he wasn’t sure what she was asking, and she could see the gears turning as he formulated a reply. “If you want, I’ll walk with you, and we don’t have to talk, and you can decide later. You should be safe walking back this late, that’s all that matters.”

She considered it for a moment. It was a smart move, having someone to walk with, and she wouldn’t have to call Campus Police for an escort. 

“Okay,” she conceded. “But no talking. Just walking. No small talk, no making fun of our narcissistic dick of a professor. We walk, we say goodbye at our doors, and that’s it. Got it?”

“Got it.” Jordan had agreed to that too fast, but he was content to let Lydia set the ground rules and she would let his overeager tone slide. They walked together in silence, listening to the crickets, and then the sounds of music or television that trickled out of the windows of dorm living. Soon enough they were at their building, and he held the door open for her, following her inside. In the elevator, three floors up, they took a left down the hallway to get to their rooms, where they paused between their doorways.

“Thank you for walking with me,” she said quietly. “Goodnight.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Lydia waited for her door to close before she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Veena for listening to me freak out about this story!


	9. On Call

If move in day was the least favorite day of Resident Assistants around the world, then on call nights were... Not the second least favorite day, but they were in the top five. And unfortunately, there were a lot more on call nights than move in days.

On call nights were made more bearable by working with a friend, and Clarke made sure they were working opposite nights in her building so she could walk with Jordan in his. Jordan didn’t mind the legwork - walking their building a few times a night to make sure no one was getting into trouble wasn’t the hard part of the job. What bothered him was that the rules that the housing department had set were rigid and didn’t give second chances. He tried to give those whenever possible, because most of the infractions that they saw weren’t life threatening or dangerous, just a little stupid.

Jordan had pulled the desk job end of being on call, which meant he sat at the front desk for three hours before they walked the building. It was supposed to be an easy way for a resident to find an RA if they needed help, but it mostly meant signing out vacuums to the rooms who hadn’t bought one, and taking the occasional phone call from a parent, begging them to check on their child in case they had lost their phone. The last time they had gotten a call like that, the student had turned their phone off to get away from their mom, and Jordan wasn’t sure he could blame her. 

Tonight had been uneventful so far, and when Jordan met Clarke at the desk, she handed him a sandwich she had snuck out of the dining center.

“You know, whoever came up with ‘RAs work the desk during dinner’ must either be trying to save us from food poisoning, or they want us to starve,” he said. “And I’m not sure which would be less painful.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Great, lets talk about food poisoning after you start eating the sandwich I was nice enough to bring you. Lets get these rounds over with so we can get pizza before the market closes.” He picked up his backpack from behind the desk and slipped it over his shoulder. 

They didn’t talk too much during the first walk. The walls and doors were thin enough that they didn’t want any residents who were awake to overhear their conversation, and it made their game of “how many people in this building are watching porn” a lot easier. They had counted seven people by the time they finished their first round, and went back to Jordan’s room to wait for curfew to pass so they could start the second round.

Even though Clarke lived in the apartment building as opposed to the dorm building, she never made fun of Jordan’s tiny room... At least not to his face. His mom and sister had done their best to help him make the most of his space, by putting up posters to cover up the places that had obviously been repainted, and helping him find a futon to put against the wall opposite of his bed. They had put a small TV in one corner and a rug in the middle of the floor, and all in all it wasn’t the most awful place to live. 

“So are you gonna tell me what the hell happened Tuesday night? You looked like a deer caught in strawberry blonde headlights. And no, that’s not code for boobs. If I was going to talk about boobs, I would say boobs.” Clarke was laying on the floor with her feet propped up on the futon, her phone held preciously in front of her face as she played Candy Crush. For an awful second, Jordan hoped she would drop her phone, but only because she was putting her nose where it didn’t belong and it would be karma.

Jordan sighed. He was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall, toying with a hackey sack that he had found in the dining center. “That’s Lydia, and please keep your voice down. She lives right across the hall, I made a fool of myself on move in day in front of her and her mother, I think I insulted her, and now we have a class together. You were there for that part, you saw what happened.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, even though she couldn’t see Jordan from where she was sitting. “So what’s the big deal? Plenty of residents don’t get along with their RA. Do you really think anyone wants to be friends with Dudebro Fuckboy? And yeah, that’s his name now. What about Melissa? Or Liz? Or Tony? Or any of us? We aren’t here to be resident’s friends we’re here to make sure someone calls 911 when they overdose on tequila. Just because she lives across the hall doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world if she hates your guts.”

“No, I... know that,” he faltered. “She sort of puts me on edge. Not like in a bad way but I don’t like feeling like that, so I just want to avoid it, you know? Get this, on move in day, I try and help with the bags right? And I make some joke about how heavy her backpack was and she turns it around on me and makes me sound like some steroid chugging monkey with the IQ of a fence post. 

And she looked so hot doing it I would have said I didn’t hear her could she please repeat that if I had found the words, but I stood there like the dumb jock she thinks I am! I mean it’s weird - you’ve heard the phrase knocked over with a feather right? That was me.”

Jordan felt a little out of breath as he realized that he actually said the second half of that out loud. He’d forgotten the rules - don’t trust another RA with your personal life. Just don’t do it. The ones who want to make sure you don’t get the job next year will sabotage you, and they all love to gossip. He could have just made the rest of this year a living hell. 

Looking up from the hackey sack, Jordan saw that Clarke was sitting up too, leaning against the edge of the futon and looking at him with concern. 

“Boy Scout,” she said clearly and slowly, “You’ve got a goddamn problem. She’s a hot problem, but she’s still a problem. The question is, what are you gonna do about it?”

Sometimes he hated that Clarke called him Boy Scout, and he almost always hated that she was right. He’d gotten the nickname after their first week of training. It was about that time that everyone started hooking up after training. It was the sort of thing that happened that no one really talked about but everyone knew it was happening. You could tell by the way people looked at each other, how close they sat during training sessions, and it was generally mushy and an emotional mess and Jordan didn’t want any part of it. When it was apparent than he hadn’t made any kind of connection with anyone, Clarke had called him Boy Scout at lunch after saying that ‘no one could be that good all the time unless they were Steve Rogers or a Boy Scout, and no mere mortal could ever earn the nickname Captain America’. The name had stuck, and so did his refusal to take part of any of the after training shenanigans, other thank a drink or two on a Friday. 

“I’m gonna ignore it and keep working and that’s it. And now it’s time to go on round so lets get going. I told Jimmy he could sleep through this one, so it’s just us tonight, let’s get going.” 

As they walked out of his room, Jordan tried not to look at the door to Lydia’s. Had she heard any of what they said? Or was she out somewhere? Jordan hated thinking this much about one person and what they thought or didn’t think of him. He hadn’t been like this in high school, or even the last two years of college. Sure, there had been coffee dates, and nights at clubs, but that was just what you did in college, right? Go out on the weekends, get lost in the city and wander around at three in the morning, the whole nine yards. 

Only Jordan had never really done the whole nine yards. Sure, one or two of them, but nine? No way. He had never been interested in all nine yards and all that entailed. Parties weren’t his scene, he got groped one too many times in a club before he called that quits, and now he was basically a campus condoned narc. 

Yeah, that led to a really exciting social life. Except that was just how Jordan liked it. It was safe and relaxing and that was Jordan’s life. It was nice.

Clarke sighed. “Alright, Boy Scout. You keep telling yourself that, and see how great it works out for you. Lets get these rounds done and get pizza. And just because you look like hell, I’m buying.”


	10. Sorority House Social

For a girl who really liked clothes, Lydia didn’t have a damn thing to wear to her first Kappa Alpha Theta rush night event. And as a girl who had survived her first week of college, hadn’t gotten homesick or food poisoning yet, or gotten on the bad side of any of her professors, you would think she had built up enough good karma to have earned one good outfit to get her through ice cream social. 

What does someone even wear to an ice cream social?

The name of the event conjured up ideas of victory rolls, poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and matching cardigan sets, and Lydia would get caught dead in anything like that. As she tore through her closet, she looked for something, anything, that looked like how a sorority girl was supposed to look. It was too cold out for a miniskirt, but she didn’t want to be bundled up in some puffer jacket and jeans. With Christine’s help she settled on a dark green sweater that was almost see-through and a black tank top, with jeans and heeled knee-high boots, and a leather jacket thrown on top so she wouldn’t freeze on her walk to the sorority house. 

With a swipe of lipstick and one last double check that her phone was charged, Lydia left the dorm building and went to meet Madison at the student center. They had agreed that walking over with someone else would be less intimidating, and Lydia also hoped it would show that she was ready and willing to make friends and not be a cutthroat bitch, which she had a feeling was what was actually expected of her. 

Their walk was quiet. As almost complete strangers, they didn’t have a lot to talk about outside of the sorority, but there were plenty of people to watch as they walked. For a Friday night, there seemed to be a lot of house parties going on, and Lydia felt like she was watching a movie instead of her life. It felt like if she talked, the theater lights would come on, the movie would end, and she would be sitting there alone. Something about the night seemed distant and off, but Lydia shook the feeling. This was what she wanted to do, what she had promised Allison she would do. This sorority was the best, and Lydia wanted the best for herself in everything.

Kappa Alpha Theta’s sorority house was lit up like a christmas tree and there was music spilling out the front doors. Girls were arriving in groups of twos and threes, and even some fours, and Lydia and Madison stopped where the asphalt gave way to grass and cement. Madison seemed to hesitate, and Lydia nudged her shoulder with her own.

“Hey, we got this. We are badass college girls who survived their first week of school, and no one can tell us what we can’t do, right?” Her voice sounded too bright and hopeful. Encouraging herself was one thing, and she believed that she would have the best if she worked for it, but encouraging a total stranger wasn’t exactly in Lydia’s wheelhouse. 

Luckily, Madison didn’t seem to notice, or if she did she didn’t question it. “That’s us. Badass college girls. We can do this.”

As they walked up the path, they were greeted by girls that had been at the rush table, and signed in with the girl who had invited them. They put their names, phone numbers, and school emails on a list, and had their picture taken. The sister with the camera explained that they wanted to start putting names to faces, because they were holding so many events this week, but Madison gave Lydia a look that said, Does this sketch anyone out but me? Lydia didn’t return the look, and kept walking.

The sorority house was gorgeous. There was a hallway with class pictures that dated back through the 1900s. There were tables set up with information on their philanthropy projects, social events, and spreadsheets of the annual fees and what they paid for. Because upstairs was where the sorority sisters lived, it was off limits, but there were pictures on hand to see what the living arrangements were like. Lydia wondered if living here would be required, and how many sisters lived here at any given time. That didn’t seem like the kind of question she wanted to ask at the moment, because the girls might think that she didn’t want to live here - she wouldn’t mind one way or another, but was curious about how the chapters accommodating their growing numbers... If they grew at all. 

Wandering back to the class picture hallway, Lydia started counting. The first sets of pictures only had a few women in them, and then more as time went on, but eventually they seemed to even out at the same number of sisters. If they were having rush events, did they have open spots, or did they just do this anyway? How many spots were there? Did they have a quota on how many girls made it to the final round before they made decisions? Were their pictures being taken to consider how they would fit in with everyone else, or was it really just so they could put names to faces?

It was funny how the way you thought about things could change over the years. Freshman in high school Lydia would have said ‘bring it on’ and gone out there and outshined every girl who wanted in, no matter how many spots there were. She would have worn the best dresses and the most expensive shoes, and she would have pretended to be some dumb redhead who just wanted to party. Freshman in college Lydia, though, wasn’t sure that was the right way to go about it. She wanted to learn about the chapter history, about their philanthropy projects, about their goals, and what sort of academic record the chapter had. 

She wanted to make an informed decision, and not just pick a sorority on how pretty the girls were, and part of that was because of Allison. Her best friend showed her that she didn’t have to play stupid, and that she didn’t have to wear short skirts and high heels and look like a model. Allison loved her even when her hair was in a bun and she was in sweatpants while they crammed for finals. Lydia wanted people who would love her like that here, because even though she couldn’t have Allison with her, she wanted people who were like Allison. Madison seemed a little like Allison, she reflected. Sure, the girl was quieter, and looked nothing like her best friend, but Lydia had the feeling that she was the kind of person who would stick by you through anything. And if that was the sort of person she wanted to be sisters with, then Lydia would just have to judge the sorority sisters against Madison. After all, they could choose her, but Lydia had to say yes. She still had a choice here. 

Lydia shook her head. She was getting too philosophical about this, too... maudlin. That was the right word. Shaking her head, she went out into the back patio area, where sorority sisters and fraternity brothers were hanging out, and there were drinks and desserts set up. It looked like people had been drinking but no one had touched the food. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it - there were fruit and marshmallow kabob things, and little pastry cups with fruit and chocolate. With a shrug, Lydia grabbed two of the fruit cups and popped one in her mouth. 

Madison appeared at her shoulder, and said, “I sort of thought sorority sisters were supposed to be the college version of the Stepford Wives. These girls actually seem kind of normal. Even if I haven’t seen anyone eat anything.” 

“Well, more for us,” Lydia whispered, handing Madison the other fruit cup. “Did you meet anyone else?”

“A few girls that I’ve seen in the dining center, and a girl that’s in my English class. There’s a lot of girls I haven’t seen yet, but this is a big campus.”

“The dining center? I thought you didn’t live on campus.”

“I don’t,” Madison explained. “But I got a commuter plan because I have breaks between classes but not enough time to go home and get food. And honestly, the cooking may suck, but at least it’s not my cooking and I don’t have to clean up after, so it could be worse.”

Lydia made a mental note to look for Madison around the dining center during lunch - it would be nice to have someone to eat with, especially if Christine was in class. She opened her mouth to ask her another question, but Madison’s phone beeped as she received a text message.

She grimaced. “My cat just tried to eat my roommate’s hamster, and there’s a war brewing at home. I should get out of here.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

They walked back to the student center quickly and parted ways as Madison headed towards the bus stop and Lydia went back to her building. It was dark, after ten, and the campus was almost completely devoid of people. The temperature felt like it was dropping more as the minutes ticked by, and Lydia shivered. 

As her building came into sight, Lydia started feeling around in her pockets for her keys and... She didn’t have them. She had her cell phone, but she had left without her keys - keys that she needed to get into the building before she could even get into her room. How was she going to get in? 

Pulling out her phone, Lydia started looking for Christine’s number before she realized that she hadn’t gotten it yet. They had gone a whole week and a half of living together, and she still didn’t have her roommate’s phone number. She was starting to panic a little, and Lydia started knocking on the glass of the front door - maybe someone at the front desk would hear here, or maybe a resident was getting their mail late at night and would take pity on her.

Five minutes of knocking didn’t get her anywhere, and Lydia took a few steps back, scanning the windows. If she could could them correctly, maybe she could get Christine’s attention and get her to open the door. One window, two windows, three windows, four windows, five- that was it, right?

“Hello?” Lydia hoped her voice carried up to the third floor. “Christine, can you hear me? Christine?” 

The window in question slid open, and instead of Christine, Lydia saw Jordan. Great, just absolutely fantastic. 

“You know it’s curfew right?” He called down.

“Really? I had no idea. I figured I would just act out Romeo and Juliet with my roommate tonight because I’m bored.”

“Well you’re not doing a great job of it. There’s a Shakespeare class you could take before you try again.”

Lydia was starting to get irritated, and antsy. She clenched and unclenched her hands in her pockets, a motion that hurt from the cold. “Look, I’m locked out. Aren’t you supposed to be able to help when things like this happen?”

She was sure she heard him laugh before he head, “Yeah, sure. Give me two minutes.”

They were the longest two minutes of her evening. Crossing her arms, Lydia tried to pull her jacket closer. How was it this cold when it wasn’t even winter yet? It was the bay area weather, she supposed, and probably should have planned better. Eventually, the door slid open and Jordan was standing there barefoot, in nothing but gym shorts and carrying a blanket. Normally it would have been a nice sight, but Lydia was too agitated to care. She walked inside, and shivered slightly as she walked under the fan that came on every time the sliding door. Jordan wrapped a blanket around her and Lydia fought the urge to burrow deeper into the fabric. It was warm, and smelled like boy. Had he been sleeping with it?

She looked up at him gratefully, but didn’t say anything as they crossed the lobby and waited for an elevator. With a ding, the doors slid open and they stepped inside, and Jordan broke the silence.

“You didn’t lose your keys did you?”

Lydia looked at him curiously. Why did he care? “No, I guess I just left them on my desk. And I don’t have my roommate’s number, otherwise I would have called her and gotten her to let me in.”

“Well that’s good,” he said as the doors slid open. “Because if you lost them, I wouldn’t be able to use this.” Jordan pulled a key out of his pocket. It had her room number on it. “I got it from the front desk. We keep spares in case people get locked out, and in the interest of saving the building from your rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I grabbed it from the key box.”

“And why wouldn’t you be able to use it if I lost my keys?” 

“Because then I’d have to turn you over to campus police and have you file a police report first.” What? Really? Lydia looked at him alarmed, but when Jordan looked at her sideways as they walked down the hall, she saw a smile tugging at his lips. So the campus babysitter had a sense of humor... Interesting. 

“I’m just kidding,” he insisted. 

“Well, I’ll make sure to let Comedy Central that know the next time they call looking for a new act,” she countered. 

They had nearly passed their respective doors when Lydia stopped short, Jordan stopping only a few steps past her. If Lydia hadn’t been aware that she was standing in front of a half naked older college boy a few minutes ago, she was definitely aware of it now. He didn’t look like Jackson did, like he was trying too hard to imitate a Greek statue, cold and sculpted marble. He looked like... himself. It was a stupid thing to think, but Lydia couldn’t come up with anything better. He looked human and warm and a little sleepy, and like he would give very good hugs.

Lydia’s wandering train of thought was broken by a door slamming on the other end of the hallway, and she jumped slightly, before pulling his blanket off from around her shoulders. 

“Thanks,” she said abruptly, “for saving me out there. And for the blanket. And for not laughing at me.”

Of course, Jordan laughed at that. “Well I did laugh a little, but only because you’re funny when you’re trying not to be. And it’s what I’m here for - literally.”

Lydia studied her shoes intently. Things like this was why you had an RA - he wasn’t being nice, he was just doing his job. This wasn’t any special treatment, any favors or anything else, it was just what he did. 

Holding her hand out for the key, and handing the blanket back with the other, she said, “I’ll return the key in the morning.”

She took the key from him, and didn’t even look to see if he grabbed the blanket before it fell, and turned to unlock her door. Her face felt flushed from the realization that she wasn’t anything special to him, and that maybe she wanted to be.


	11. Bad Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mild sexual content, so be warned! I'll be updating the ratings to reflect changes as they happen.

It had been weeks and Jordan was still thinking about the night Lydia had gotten locked out. August turned into September, the weather began to cool, and leaves were beginning to turn gold and red - and the leaves that were a swirl of both always reminded him of Lydia’s hair in the sunlight, how red and gold and orange all mixed together. He hadn’t shared that particular thought with anyone, but he couldn’t help thinking about it whenever he saw her in the dining center, sitting by a window. 

He also couldn’t help, or told himself he couldn’t, thinking about her standing there, wrapped up in his blanket, looking flushed and a little flustered. He couldn’t pinpoint why she had looked at him like that, and while his brain wanted to know, his other anatomy decided that the why wasn’t important, and Jordan found lately that when he was frustrated and needed relief, more often than not he thought of Lydia looking at him like that. 

Jordan was an educated man, with two years of college - and one of those years included Biological Sciences, which was basically sex ed for college students. He knew sex and masturbation weren’t shameful, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty for thinking of Lydia that way. There was something... reductive, almost, about it, and Lydia was more than that. She was more than some pretty face to jerk off to, and he felt ashamed of how easy it was to do just that, but the same didn’t stop him.

The latest slip up had been this morning. Jordan had been in the shower after his work out - it was early enough that no one else was around, and even the brutal routine hadn’t been able to shake a dream he’d had the night before. All he could remember was Lydia looking at him like that again, and in his dream she leaned closer, so slowly that Jordan felt like time had been stretched out like taffy... and then he woke up. Fragments of the dream still floated around in his head, and Jordan leaned his forehead on the tile of the shower wall, letting the hot water run down the back of his neck. Closing his eyes made it easier to remember, and easier to pretend that the dream hadn’t stopped. 

In the early morning silence, it was easy to pretend the dream hadn’t stopped, and to imagine what it would be like to kiss Lydia. Jordan pictured pulling the blanket off from around her shoulders, and then her jacket. He could imagine reaching forward and tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, inhaling the smell of her shampoo and perfume as he leaned closer to brush his lips against her skin.

Standing in the shower, Jordan braced himself against the cold tile as his free hand wrapped around his cock as he pictured what it would be like to kiss her, nip at her ear lobe, to find the sensitive spots on her neck and make her breath hitch and oh, how sweet her moans sounded in his ears- It was almost embarrassing how quickly he got aroused, panting under the water and steam. Jordan focused on the sounds he imagined she would make, on how soft her skin must be and pumped his hand up and down his length. Oh God, he wanted her. He wanted to see her, all of her, naked and warm and all his. He thrust into his hand and bit back his own moan, one, two, three, four- Fixing the image of Lydia’s lips, soft and pink, in his mind, Jordan came, semen spilling over his hand as his shoulders tensed and his other hand wrapped around the shower head to hold himself up. 

He was still embarrassed by how often it had happened, though it couldn’t have been more than a handful of times. It was something private that he didn’t like discussing, and hadn’t even mentioned it to Clarke. Jordan didn’t doubt that she would keep his secret, but he didn’t feel like being laughed at, especially about this. 

The idea came to him in the middle of his criminology class. When Jordan should have been paying attention to case law governing law enforcement policies or whatever it was, he was trying to find a way to get over a relationship that was all in his head. Sitting in the back of the room, Jordan stared blankly at his notebook as he ran through as many ideas as he could. Random hookups, club nights, blind dates, online dates, anything to get him thinking about someone else. And then he realized... Jordan already had someone else to think about. He had been close to Clarke from their first day in training. They liked the same jokes, they worked out together in the morning, made fun of the same people, and had a lot more in common that most of his co-workers who were sleeping together. They had a more stable base for a relationship than a lot of people in college.

Jordan turned the ideas over in his head the rest of the day and through dinner, wondering if this was a stupid and desperate idea, or possibly a brilliant one. Clarke was pretty, and could kick his ass, and she was a good person - and one of the most enticing factors was that she was an RA in another building. Was that awful of him for thinking like that? Probably, and his gut twisted with guilt. He would never know if he didn’t try, and Jordan had to at least try.e

After dinner, Jordan was due to go over to Clarke’s apartment so they could work on a paper. She had the same criminology class at a different time. Running up to his room, Jordan grabbed his textbook and notebook, as well as his laptop and charger, and threw them in his backpack. Pausing for a moment, Jordan dropped the bag on his bed and headed for the bathroom. Digging around in his bathroom locker, he pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste and quickly brushed his teeth. There was no sense in doing what he was about to do without fresh breath, right? As soon as he was done, Jordan went back to his room to grab his bag, and was off down the stairs to the neighboring building. 

He was nervous, which was weird. Jordan was never nervous around Clarke. She was like one of the guys, only she wasn’t because she was a girl - which really boiled down to she was just a good person to hang out with. Knocking, Jordan decided he would debate the meaning of the phrase “one of the guys” later, as Clarke yelled that the door was open and to get his ass inside. 

Jordan stepped inside and locked the door behind him. Clarke was in her room, sprawled out on the bed under a net of Christmas lights, and pointed at the desk without looking up from her book.

“You can throw your stuff there. I’d say you could relax, but we don’t all have classy Target futons,” she said with a grin, as she bookmarked the page.

He set his bag down on the chair and stood there awkwardly, fingers lacing and unlacing - the only physical sign of his nerves. Jordan couldn’t look at her, and opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to find the words he wanted.

Clarke frowned at him. “What’s up, Boy Scout, cat got your tongue?” 

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, sliding off and bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly. Jordan stepped closer and cleared his throat. He wanted to back out, to say something silly, make a joke out of what was bothering him so much that he had spent all day hoping he was wrong and that this was right instead.

“Can I try something without you punching me in the throat? Because it kind of involves personal space, and I don’t want you to go all ninja on me.” he asked, voice cracked and scratchy. He must have looked pathetic and desperate, because Clarke didn’t make a snappy comeback, only nodded. Stepping closer, Jordan placed his hands on her shoulders, thinking that it felt awkward and stiff, but unsure of where else to put them at first, until he moved them to her waist. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping and willing that it would feel right, like he imagined it would with- no, he couldn’t think about _her_ right now. 

They stood there for a moment, Jordan’s hands on her waist, while Clarke’s arms hung by her sides. With his lips against hers, Jordan couldn’t feel anything, no rush of emotion or anything like what he imagined kissing someone would feel like. He felt hollow, and after a few more desperate moments stepped back, face flushed in embarrassment. 

At least she hadn’t punched him... yet. 

Clarke stepped back, leaning against the side of her bed. She crossed her arms and looked at him, opened her mouth, closed it again, looked at the floor, and then again at him.

“Well that was weird.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jordan nodded. He felt weird about it too, like he was kissing his cousin - not that he knew exactly what that felt like. 

“I was sort of hoping that you and I- you know. We get along, I haven’t seen you with anyone else, and we spend so much time together that I sort of figured...” Jordan felt the rest of his pathetic excuse lodge in his throat. Was he really trying to justify this as ‘they didn’t have anyone else so why not’?

She laughed, but tried to cover it up with a cough. If Jordan hadn’t felt so awful, he might have made a joke, or laughed along with her. He felt so wretched, though, that nothing about this was funny. Jordan had wanted this to work, sort of. It was safer, if nothing else. 

“So you figured that just because I haven’t been sucking anyone’s face in front of you, I was waiting for you to jump me and try and stick your tongue down my throat? Nice plan, Parrish. Too bad you couldn’t have been an adult and just, you know, asked me.” The frank look in her eyes wasn’t making Jordan feel any better. “This is about the redhead, isn’t it?”

Looking around, Jordan found the desk chair and pushed his bag onto the floor, slumping onto the seat. “Yeah, it is. Well, kind of. I just wanted to-”

“To make sure that you weren’t wasting your time salivating over some resident when you might be passing up something else? Because we’re both RAs and no one cares one way or another if we sleep together?”

Jordan exhaled in frustration. “How come you always know what I’m thinking? If you’ve been holding out on my about some psychic abilities, I’m gonna be really pissed.”

Reaching behind her, Clarke grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Because you’re a predictable, sad little brain. It’s not my fault my superior mental capacities can predict your every move,” she joked. “And because I get it. You want her, you can’t have her, it’s like every soap opera ever. Watch a romcom, man, learn something.”

Grabbing the pillow from where it had bounced off his shoulder to the floor, Jordan threw it back and gave her a weak smile. “Does that mean we can get back to doing homework? Because while your brain may be superior, I didn’t ditch class this week and I have the notes.”

As they started working on the assignment, Jordan reflected that he was really lucky to have a friend like Clarke - she could have hit him, or thrown him out, or any number of things, but instead she understood and moved on. She didn’t blame Jordan for trying something desperate, and one day when he could talk about it without wanting the floor to swallow him whole, he would have to apologize for kissing her without her permission. It was kind of a dick move, after all, and best friends didn’t do things like that to each other. He knew that much from romcoms, at least.


	12. Labor Day Weekend

The week before Labor Day Weekend dragged on longer than Lydia thought possible. She had thought about skipping her classes on that Friday, but Allison threatened to cancel her visit if she found out Lydia was risking her grades for her - an empty threat, but it was enough to make Lydia promise not to skip. Because of that agreement, and spent that morning sitting in stuffy classrooms, staring longingly at the fresh fall air outside. The trees were changing colors, there was a cool breeze in the air, and it was almost pumpkin spice latte season. And in less than two hours, she would be reunited with her best friend. 

Her last class seemed to go on forever, and staring at the clock wasn’t helping. Lydia could have sworn the clock had broken at least a handful of times, judging by how often it seemed to stop. When they were finally dismissed, Lydia walked back to her building, amazed at the silence that had descended over the housing communities after so many students had left for the long weekend. If she hadn’t been in such a rush, Lydia might have stopped to sit on a park bench and appreciate the peace and quiet.

Lydia was ready for her weekend to begin, and forced herself to wait to call Allison until she was in her room where she could abandon all good manners and flail and laugh to her hearts content. The closer she got to her building, the more impatient she got, and Lydia was surprised to hear her phone beep as she waited for the elevator. It was a text from Christine, and Lydia spent the whole short ride up three floors searching for her phone in her purse. 

As she stepped off the elevator, Lydia did a quick scan of the hallway - no Jordan. had he gone home for the weekend? - and finally found her phone. It was a picture message, and wouldn’t load until she was at her door and had already pulled her keys out of her pocket. She had to put her phone away then, and Lydia started unlocking the door, saying, “Christine, what did you try and send me?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you look.”

 _That wasn’t Christine._ Lydia looked up from her phone and squealed, slamming the door behind her. 

“Allison, Allison, I can’t believe you’re here!” Lydia dashed across the room, throwing her bag on her bed and hugging her best friend tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“Because that’s what you do when you surprise someone!” Allison said into her hair. “Scott is trying to find parking, we’ve got a hotel down the street, and we’re ready to kidnap you, so lets go!”

Stepping back, Lydia held Allisons hands and looked at her. She had been so worried about her best friend after that freak accident at the archery range. Some amateur in the class she had been teaching hadn’t followed directions, and Allison had ended up with an arrow in her side, and weeks of surgeries. Lydia had been terrified for her, but teased Allison anyway that maybe she could retire from the competition circuit. No such thing had happened of course, but she had scaled back a little at Lydia and Scott’s insistence. 

Allison was better now, and they had the whole weekend together. They had University Avenue to explore, California Avenue, the farmers market, and the beach. She would see two of her best friends in the world in a place they were supposed to be - with her, out of Beacon Hills, where they could be happy. And for this one weekend, they would have what Lydia had always wanted for them. 

Lydia looked over at her roommate. Christine hadn’t said anything the whole time - she just sat there with tears in her eyes, smiling. Lydia crossed the short distance between their beds and hugged her. 

“Thank you for helping me with this. I promise to bring you ice cream, okay?” Lydia couldn’t think of any good way to say thank you other than promising the one thing she had always seen Christine look at in the student store and never buy. It was one of those treats that she thought about but never let herself have, like Lydia would always eye the coffee shop on campus but never go in unless she felt she had earned it. 

Grabbing her bag, Lydia took Allison by the hand and opened the door, desperate for cool air and sunshine, and saw Jordan standing just outside his. She looked at him, looked away, and smiled. Today was her day with Allison, and she wouldn’t let awkwardness ruin it. No matter how nice Jordan had been to her the last time she had seen him, it hadn’t meant anything special, and she needed to remember that.

Pulling her by the hand towards the elevators, Lydia tried not to look back. She wanted to, but she didn’t want to, and knew that Allison would already be asking about him, so why make it worse? And as soon as they got in the elevator, Allison asked. 

“Who was Mr. Hottie McHot Pants?” she grinned. “Sign me up for residential life and whatever gym he goes to. That is some eye candy.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “As if you’ve ever taken a second look at anyone who isn’t Scott since you met him. If you must know, his name is Jordan, he’s my RA which basically means he’s a glorified babysitter, and he’s the one I told you about from when I moved in.”

“And _you_ haven’t ever _not_ taken a second look at someone that hot. Remember Jackson? And Aiden? And every nameless guy who tripped over his feet to get your attention in high school? This one is like, ten times hotter than them, no offense to your British-wannabe-ex-boyfriend.”

She didn’t answer Allison, and instead pulled out her phone to call Scott and tell him where he could pick them up. 

___

The sun had set hours before Lydia returned with two scoops of cookie dough in cones, turned upside down into paper cups. She was exhausted and had smiled so much that day that her face hurt. Lydia and Scott and Allison had spent the day shopping, taking ridiculous pictures at landmarks, played with puppies at an adoption site set up in the park, and drank coffee until it felt like their veins were fizzing with caffeine instead of blood. Eventually, Allison and Scott got a little too lovey-dovey for Lydia’s tastes, and she started making jokes about them getting a room, and said they could drop her off at school if they wanted - they had Saturday and Sunday after all. 

Lydia was sure she could imagine what they would get up to back in their room, and it was funny to think how far they had come since days of sneaking makeout sessions and Lydia trying to give Allison sex advice. And with the freedom of being far from home, and far from their parents, things were definitely going to happen.

When she walked into her room, Lydia held up one cup with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I sort of bailed today, before you could properly meet Allison.”

Christine’s eyes lit up and held her hands out for her cup, jumping up and down where she was sitting on the bed. “Oh my god, no problem,” she said, scooping up a cookie dough filled bite on her spoon. “Besides, you two looked like you had a lot to catch up on.”

“We did,” she agreed. “Allison has been my best friend since my Sophomore year of high school. She saw me date jerks, bad guys, guys who didn’t care about me so much as how I looked to everyone else when we were dating. She told me to stop pretending to be stupid, because she knew I wanted to get into a good school and I couldn’t do that if I was playing dumb to impress boys. And her and Scott are the best couple I’ve ever seen in my life. My parents were divorced when I was young, so I didn’t really see healthy long term relationships, but it’s been almost three years and those two are still together, and I want a relationship like theirs one day, you know?”

Christine sighed - the kind of sigh you reserve for sappy romantic movies where the guy gets the girl. they kiss under the stars, and everything gets better. That was Scott and Allison in a nutshell, only Lydia wasn’t sure who saved who. Scott had saved Allison and then she saved him right back. It wasn’t like in the movies Lydia had idolized for years. They were unconventional, but they loved each other, and Lydia wasn’t sure anything else mattered. 

In an effort to make Christine feel like she hadn’t been left out of the fun, Lydia opened her laptop to Netflix, and pointed the screen in Christine’s direction. They spent the rest of the night watching Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill episodes, and getting brain freezes from eating their ice cream too fast. It wasn’t the epic Bay Area adventure that she’d had earlier in the day, but it was fun in its own right. Lydia had to remind herself that making new friends was just as important as keeping the old ones, and that days like this were perfect for both.


	13. Library

Title: Studying Romances  
Influences: Vampire Weekend, Campus  
Part: 13/?  
Pairing: Lydia x Parrish, side Allison x Scott  
Chapter Rating: T (language, some sexual content)  
Continues to thank Veena for listening to me ramble.

Story Summary: Jordan Parrish is a Resident Assistant (RA) and a Criminology Major Junior. Lydia Martin is a Freshman taking Sophomore classes in her Mathematics program. She also happens to live on his floor. Dating residents is against the rules, but rules are meant to be broken, right?

Jordan kept thinking about Lydia as the days dragged on and the early midterms drew closer. He didn’t always think about her when he was in the shower, or when he was in bed and about to sleep. He wondered what she was doing, if her classes were going well, and what kind of cereal she had for breakfast - if she ate cereal. It had occurred to him that he had too much time on his hands and was probably obsessing over her, but he couldn’t figure out why or how to stop. He wasn’t sure how to talk to her, although he wanted to try. Jordan didn’t like feeling like a stalker.

Whenever he saw Lydia, he couldn’t find a way to start a conversation. He was always with his co-workers or she was with friends, or one of them was rushing off one direction or another. When they were out in public, he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to talk to her, if she would be embarrassed to be seen with her RA. He knew there were some residents like that, who might invite their RA to play video games with them and their roommates, but wouldn’t even say hi in the dining center. That attitude was two-faces, in Jordan’s opinion, and he hoped none of his residents were like that. He might be a student, like them, but he was separate from them, and they all seemed to know that. 

As the year dragged on and Jordan had more papers to write, he realized that while he had the luxury of a room to himself, always feeling the pressure of being “at work” wasn’t worth it, and he began to prefer working on his papers and assignments in the library on the main campus. When he was there, he was just another student, frantically typing out a paper. No one stared at him, or talked about him behind his back - no one cared. 

One night in particular, Jordan couldn’t focus on the paper in front of him. It wasn’t a long assignment, just five questions they had to answer and turn in online. Irritated with his lack of motivation, Jordan packed up his laptop and textbook and headed for the library. He hoped he was able to focus there. 

The library was blessedly quiet after hours. There was a coffee shop inside, and it had closed for the day, the smell of coffee and re-heated pastry still wafting around the first floor. In the basement, there were study rooms where the walls were all made of whiteboard, and other rooms where whole walls were lined with computers. Those rooms were almost always occupied, so Jordan headed up to the third floor. The second and third floors were full of a mix of things, including studying cubicles and rows of reference texts, as well as the automated book-retrieval system. The fourth floor was relatively empty. Since the library had been built, but not completely filled, there was very little furniture on that floor other than a few chairs and some empty bookshelves. Sometimes Jordan liked being on that floor, when the other ones got too loud. 

Tonight, he was on the third floor, in a corner by a large window. There wasn’t much to see - the campus was too big to see the city beyond it, but at least he would be able to tell when the sun came up and it was time to go back. The work on his paper went slowly. There were a lot of details, and a lot of things to distract himself with, and most times the distractions won out. 

The clock on his computer dashboard showed that it was well past one in the morning when footsteps echoed across the room - heels, maybe? He looked up and saw someone approaching, and had trouble making out who they were until they were closer because the lights in this corner of the building were dim. 

“Is there an outlet free around here? My laptop is about to die.”

Jordan’s stomach dropped when he heard the girl’s voice. It was Lydia, and here he was faced with an opportunity - stay and share the outlet silently, stay and share the outlet and talk, or offer to leave, or make an excuse. He only had a moment to figure out what he was going to say. 

“Oh God, yeah, sure. You can share this one if you want?” When Jordan spoke, his voice sounded like he had been sleeping too long, or was doing a bad imitation of a pack a day smoker, and he winced. He hated when that happened. Clearing his throat, Jordan moved his things from where they were on the floor, and sat there instead. 

Lydia didn’t protest and took the seat he had vacated for her. She situated herself and her laptop, crossing her legs to sit in the chair “criss cross applesauce” and propped her laptop up on her knees. The jeans she was wearing had a hole in one knee and Jordan wanted to poke the skin peeking through to see if she was ticklish. It was something he would do to Clarke, and even though he and Lydia didn’t have anywhere near the same level of familiarity, the impulse felt right. 

They sat there in silence that was only broken by the quiet tapping of keyboard keys until Jordan sat his laptop down and closed it. He looked up at her and waited for her to stop typing so he wouldn’t break her concentration. 

When she did stop, he asked, “What are you working on?”

Lydia peeked over her laptop screen, one eyebrow raised. “I’m writing a paper on the history of functions in the relation of the differential calculus and integral calculus.”

“Sorry, what?” The words she spoke were English, and when they were strung together they were a sentence, but Jordan didn’t understand anything past the words ‘history of’.

When she sighed and rolled her eyes, Jordan had trouble understanding why she was reacting like that. That paper sounded complicated to him, but Lydia sounded like she understood it. She had to be pretty smart to be in math classes that most people avoided, right? He thought that was something to be proud of, but then again, he was at little risk of getting labeled a geek or a nerd. 

“It’s a paper for one of my math classes. It’s sort of advanced Calculus, but not actually Advanced Calculus with a capital A. That’s a different class. And before you get started yes I am smart, yes I have a high IQ, no I do not hate English class, and I did actually take my own entrance exams,” she said quickly, as if trying to get the explanation out before getting interrupted. 

He was surprised, and even more confused. “Do people really ask you those things? Because that’s kind of rude and... Smartist. It’s like abelist or classist except the whole judging someone by their looks and thinking they’re dumb. There’s probably a word for that. Either way, that’s stupid. You can’t cheat entrance exams, so of course you took them.”

Lydia sat there silently, face lit by the blue-ish light from her computer screen. If Jordan had to pick an attitude for her at the moment, it might be defensive. Judging by her speech, she’d had to defend her intelligence at least a few times, and she was probably trying to make sense of the garbage that had just come out his mouth, past the filter that was slowly decaying. 

“A lot of people just ask me when I got pretty, since I clearly had to be an ugly nerd to be good at math. Or if I was adopted and raised by Asian parents, or something stupid,” she muttered. 

Jordan choked down a laugh. “Well, you may be in the middle of liberal central, but I don’t think people are going to get any more politically correct. Your brain can do stuff that would probably make mine melt and pour out of my ears. Why not show that off? It sounds like you can do some amazing things.”

“Well, I used to pretend I was stupid in high school,” she confessed. “Except for math, because I always liked it, and wanted to show off. But I didn’t exactly advertise that I’m ‘academically advanced’. I guess that’s the new term for genius level IQ because it makes people sound less like Einstein and more normal.”

Now he was impressed. Genius IQ? What was she doing here? Why not MIT or Harvard or some prestigious Ivy League or research facility? Stanford was nice, sure, but it wasn’t Princeton or Yale or what people thought of when they thought of geniuses. Jordan wasn’t sure what his IQ was, but he was sure it was pretty average, and he was lucky to be here. He was sure Lydia could have had her pick of any school in the world.   
“So, at the risk of sounding like any rudely curious caveman, what else do you like? Or is it just math?” he asked. If Lydia was willing to talk, then Jordan would ask as many questions as he could.

“Well,” she said cautiously, “I guess there isn’t just one thing? Math is my favorite, but I’m versed in classical and archaic Latin, I can make a molotov cocktail from chemicals you find in your average science lab. I read a lot, so I guess it’s whatever I’m reading about at the moment. My best friend is a national archery competitor, so for a while I read everything I could about that. I also like psychology, but there’s really no professions that interest me there so it’s just a hobby. And I’m teaching myself French and Russian. I’d like to read Tolstoy in the original language.” 

As Lydia stopped speaking, she looked down at her computer screen, apparently embarrassed. Jordan was stunned, and was pretty sure his jaw might be on the floor, and he would need to pick it up.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Lydia, that’s amazing. I mean it. I also think the universe is completely unfair that someone as beautiful as you can also be that smart - no, wait, I mean I just can’t believe that- I swear I’m not normally this... tongue tied. Clearly I ran off chasing a butterfly when the IQ points were getting handed out. And I promise I won’t ask for tutoring - you probably get that all the time.”

She laughed at that, and Jordan felt a little better. If he wasn’t smart, at least he was good at making people laugh.   
They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, Lydia going back to her typing and Jordan toying with the corner of his laptop while staring out the window. This was nice, and he was afraid that the peace and quiet was too fragile and might shatter any moment, and that afterwards they would go back to awkward staring and even more awkward commentary. He didn’t know how long they sat there before Lydia cleared her throat and he looked up at her.

“You called me beautiful,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t exactly just a statement either. 

Jordan hesitated. Was this really something he wanted to answer? Sure, he had slipped up and tried to cover it up by rambling, but there was no hiding the fact that he’d said she was beautiful - and she was. He’d thought so from the first day he met her, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one. If half the guys in their building hadn’t stared at her at least once, then Jordan was sure they were blind. How could someone not stare at Lydia? 

Slowly, he nodded his head. “Yeah, I did. Because you are.”

The silence that followed was eating him from the inside out as he wondered if she was going to leave, or maybe hit him, or tell him to stop being such a pervert and to leave her alone. Seconds dragged on as Jordan waited for her to answer.

“I don’t remember the last time someone said I was beautiful,” she said thoughtfully. “Cute, sure, pretty, maybe, but not beautiful. I guess it’s just not something people our age really say, you know? It sounds almost antiquated.”

There it was. Jordan was sure that if there were lights on in this corner of the building, he would be turning a very visible shade of bright red. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I like it though,” Lydia decided. “Thank you.”

Eventually, Jordan recovered enough of his wits to process that Lydia wasn’t mad at him. 

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, as she went back to typing. Jordan wasn’t sure she even heard him, but it didn’t matter. She hadn’t run the other direction screaming. That was a good sign, right?


	14. Going Home

A week later, Lydia was still thinking about her conversation in the library with Jordan. He had asked about her and was interested in what she had to say. Most importantly, he hadn’t laughed at her for being smart or for loving learning and reading and still caring about her appearance. If he hadn’t been her RA he might have been a good friend, but that was another possible universe instead of the one she lived in and Lydia wasn’t sure how to be a friend with someone who could rat on you for breaking a rule you didn’t know existed. 

To distract herself, she’d decided to call Allison between classes. They hadn’t spoken in the two weeks or so since her visit - they both had school, and Allison was trying to get back into the competition circuit and Lydia had attended the other two rush events she’d needed in that time as well. She felt like she hardly had time to breathe, let alone make a phone call. 

Settling on a park bench in the quad, Lydia pulled out her phone and took a deep breath of the cold air before dialing Allison’s number.

_Allison’s House of Bows and Arrows, can I be your Cupid today?_

Lydia laughed. “Have you been watching Criminal Minds again?”

_Yes. No. Maybe. There’s a marathon on right now and I’m avoiding homework and the rest of my life, and I’ve decided that you were Penelope Garcia in another life._

“I do admire her hacking skills, but not her purple lipstick.” She sighed, settling back onto the metal arm of the bench. “Things have been so crazy lately, it’s like you were just here. I can’t even believe we’re already in mid-terms and it’s almost Thanksgiving! Can we make plans for when I come home yet?”

_Um... About that. You might need to come home before Thanksgiving. I don’t know yet. Actually, I do, but I’m ignoring it today._

Allison sounded worried, and Lydia knew that when something was bothering her unflappable best friend, it was definitely something bad. "This weekend is the 7th of October, right?"

“Well, yeah. That’s what happens when you get to the end of September, unless someone changed the calendar on me.”

_I need you to come home that weekend._

Now she was on high alert. What was wrong? Why wasn’t Allison telling her up front? It was so unlike her to be evasive like this, especially about important things. 

“Why?” she demanded. “What’s going on, Allison?”

 _Don’t get mad at me, Lyds, please don’t. Scott and I -_ Lydia could hear Allison’s voice getting thick with tears _\- we’re getting married. I know it’s fast, and that it’s probably a shock, but I’m pregnant and we want to be married before I have her. Him. It. I don’t know._

“When?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, hardly able to believe that Allison - her Allison, her best friend with so many plans, was going to be a mom.

_The weekend we visited you. I took an early pregnancy test, and it’s positive, and Scott said he was going to propose when we graduated college, but he wanted to do things as right as he could, and his mom has been helping me with vitamins and everything and my dad is still in shock, but I promise we’re all okay. I just really need my best friend and I need her to be my maid of honor. I can’t get married without you Lydia. Please? Please come home?_

Two weeks. With the pregnancy tests there were nowadays, it was possible to be very very very almost positive that you were pregnant, but anything could happen up to week six when it was easier to tell. It was possible that Allison and Scott were jumping to conclusions, but Lydia wasn’t going to say it. 

“Yes. This weekend. I’ll be there, I promise.” What else could she say? Lydia’s heart was breaking for her best friend, but Allison hardly asked for anything, and she would never deny her best friend anything.

_Good. And I should warn you Stiles is Scott’s best man, but you don’t have to be his date. He met this girl, Malia, and they’re sort of official I think. Bring someone if you want._

Lydia nodded before realizing that Allison couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I’ll find someone. And I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

When they hung up, Lydia headed back to her building. There was something that she needed to do before she could regret it.

When she knocked on Jordan’s door, it sounded too loud - echoing almost accusingly through the hallway. The silence that followed was worse, like the walls had eyes and they were burning a hole in her from every angle. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? Lydia fumbled for her key and turned around, hoping to escape before-

“Lydia?” Jordan looked a little rumpled and worse for wear - had he worked the night before? Had he been sleeping all day?

“What are you doing this weekend?” The words were out of her mouth before she could catch them.

He looked at her strangely, and in an almost detached way, Lydia hoped she didn’t have something in her teeth.

“Nothing, why?”

“I need you to do something for me- I mean with me. My friend is getting married and I”m supposed to be in the wedding and I need a date and you’re the only person I can think of who might actually go with me and get along with everyone and I promise you don’t have to do anything other than show up-”

She was stopped by Jordan grabbing her wrist gently and stopped her rambling. His touch was sudden and enough to shock her back into calmness.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you. We can drive, and take my car. Don’t worry, okay?” 

The way he was looking at her was concerning in a cloying way, almost smothering. Lydia wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t going to freak out or break down - it was just her best friend’s shotgun wedding and she didn’t have anything to wear and didn’t know what to get her, and what about the baby and- yeah, she might freak out. 

Nodding, she took a deep breath. “The wedding is on Saturday. Can we leave Friday afternoon?”

He must have agreed and she must have said something, but Lydia couldn’t remember any of it and the next thing she knew, she was standing in front of her closet thinking,  _What the hell do you wear to your best friend’s wedding?_

___

It was cool outside, and Lydia hoped it wouldn’t rain. She had rolled the window down half an hour ago, and was curled up on the bench seat in Jordan’s truck staring at the trees as they passed in a blur. 

Her whole life had been blurry since Allison’s phone call. Classes and dinners and yoga classes to calm her nerves, and she couldn’t remember a single detail. All Lydia could think about was getting home to her best friend. The ache of missing Allison made her want to cry, and Lydia dug her fingers into her arms to hold back the tears, but couldn’t stop one or two from escaping. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jordan had been treating her like she was made of China since they left, and while Lydia had been grateful for the space, it had been weird at the same time. 

She swallowed hard and wiped at her face with her sweater sleeves pulled over her hands. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just anxious, you know? I haven’t seen my best friend in two weeks and all of the sudden she’s getting married and-”

Lydia hadn’t told him Allison was pregnant. She didn’t know why, other than she felt like talking about it too soon was a bad sign, and surely something would go wrong if they made a big deal out of it. 

“-and it’s just crazy to think about, you know? Everything is changing.” That sentence finished lamely, but it was the best she could do.

To his credit, Jordan nodded and didn’t pry. A short while later when they stopped for gas and snacks, he bought her an extra large bottle of water and some Asprin, and guessed at a snack - chocolate covered cherries, which were good but not her favorite - while she waited in the car, frantically typing out texts to Allison and Scott and Stiles.

The last leg of the drive was agonizing, and Lydia was reminded that going somewhere always went faster than coming back to where you started - the anticipation didn’t help at all. She’d never thought Beacon Hills was so far away until she had been in Stanford, and this was her first trip home of the year, and the streets seemed twice as long, especially once they’d gotten into town and were approaching Allison’s house.

When they pulled up in front of Allison’s house, Jordan turned off the truck and looked at Lydia like he was going to ask a question. She returned his stare, trying to answer a question when she didn’t know what it was, and they sat there like that for a few minutes, trying to ask and answer complete silence, before he opened his door, went around the truck, and then opened hers.

“Go on, I’ll get the bags. Your best friend needs you, Miss Maid of Honor.” She smiled a little bit at that, and stepped out of the truck. 

Allison’s house had always looked welcoming, and it still did now. It was funny how some things never changed, even when everything else was. Leaves crunched underfoot as she walked up to the front door, and before Lydia could knock, it swung open and Allison barreled out onto the front porch to wrap her best friend in a hug. They stood there, wrapped around each other, and Lydia cried and Allison cried and everything felt better for just a few minutes while they pretended nothing was wrong and nothing had changed and that Lydia was just home for any kind of weekend and that their lives weren’t about to change. 

“God, I missed you,” the said in unison. They broke apart laughing, and Lydia wiped at Allison’s tears. Her best friend was beautiful, and while she wouldn’t call her glowing, she managed to look happy and scared and exhilarated and anxious all at once and still look like... Allison. Her Allison that she loved and was here to officially give away to someone who would love her more than Lydia did. 

Jordan walked up right then, and Allison raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them - first Lydia, then Jordan, and then Lydia again. Lydia shook her head. She would explain later, but they had just driven for hours and it was getting late, and Lydia needed to explain to her mother why the guest room needed to be ready and introduce Jordan. 

The small talk they made was forgettable and predictable as they were joined by Scott, Stiles, Mr. Argent, and Mrs. McCall - who insisted, again, on being called Melissa and was denied, again. Eventually Lydia managed to drag Jordan away from the introductions and managed to make excuses to leave, saying that her mother would have dinner ready - not true - and that they’d had a long day - very true. 

They picked up Chinese food before it got too late and everything was closed. Once they got to her house, Lydia introduced Jordan to her mother, who luckily thought he was just a boy who lived on her floor she was friends with - it wasn’t an unusual concept considering her friendships with Scott and Stiles. He settled into the guest room, and she settled into her room just down the hall. 

It was weird, sleeping in her room again, and weirder still knowing Jordan was sleeping down the hall. Lydia’s mother was trusting, not a helicopter parent at all, and Lydia knew that if she wanted she could sneak down the hall to Jordan’s room - but to do what? She couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted to do other than talk to him. But there would be plenty of time to talk after the wedding tomorrow, and on the whole ride back to school on Sunday. Lydia rolled over and tried to sleep, but knew she would spend half the night awake. 

___

“Well,” sighed her mother, “Thank goodness for makeup. Lydia, you look dead on your feet!”

Lydia was sitting at her vanity table, makeup spread out on front of her. She rolled her eyes at her mother, but didn’t say anything - mostly because she knew she was right. She looked like hell, and took a long sip of coffee before she picked up her brush and started to dust blush across her cheekbones. The wedding was at three, and Lydia wanted to be there at least an hour before to help Allison. She might not know exactly what a maid of honor did during a shotgun wedding, but she’d be damned if she was going to miss anything. 

Allison had told her that she could wear whatever she wanted, and Lydia had despaired at the lack of direction. Eventually she had settled on a long red skirt, black top, and a soft gray wrap around sweater that looked like something a ballerina would wear. It was seasonally appropriate and warm, and Lydia felt like it was something she could be happy in. 

There was a knock on her door frame and Lydia turned around in her seat. It was Jordan, leaning into her room, wearing dark jeans and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was so unfair when boys did that, she thought. Sexy, but unfair. 

“Your chariot awaits, madam,” he said with a bow. 

“I’m just the maid of honor, not the bride, and not Cinderella,” she teased. Checking the mirror one last time, Lydia made sure her hair was in place and her lipstick wasn’t smudged. Today had to be perfect... For Allison. 

It was a short ride to her house, and Lydia spent the entire time worrying about her hair, pushing on bobby pins until Jordan told her that if she didn’t stop she might end up with one in her skull. He was teasing, of course, and if she wasn’t so nervous Lydia might have made a snappy reply. 

Once they were in the door of Allison’s house, Lydia physically moved Stiles from his spot in front of the stairs, and pointed him at Jordan. 

“Stiles, Jordan. Jordan, Stiles. And yes, that’s not his real first name, no he won’t tell you, and you two go make sure Scott is in one piece while I go upstairs.” She shooed them away with her hands. “Go on, go! We’ll be down soon, just make sure everyone is in place!”

Lydia ran up the stairs as fast as her skirt would allow, and ran into Allison’s room, slamming the door behind her. Allison was standing at the edge of her bed, one hand steadying her with a white-knuckled grasp on the bed frame. She was in a long light gray, backless gown, with sleeves that just touched her wrists. It was perfect for her, and perfect for the day. 

“What do you need?” Lydia asked breathlessly. 

“A hug. And for you to tell me that I’m not stupid, and that Scott loves me and that my dad is going to be okay and for you to be standing at the altar so that I know I’m aiming right for you and Scott.” Allison looked like she was about to be sick, and Lydia thought about mentioning it before she reconsidered. She was here to make things better, not worse. 

Wrapping her arms around her friend’s slim frame, Lydia tried to avoid messing up either of their makeup. “Okay, we can do that,” she reassured her. “We are gonna do this together, and you are going to marry the first boy you fell in love with, and you are going to have a family, and Stiles is probably going to spike whatever punch Scott’s mom made, and we’re going to dance and laugh and live happily ever after, okay?”

Allison nodded. “Okay, but only if you help me make it down the stairs.”

That part was easy. Lydia laced her fingers through Allison’s, and guided her out of her room and down the stairs. Stiles and Mr. Argent were waiting for them, and Lydia gave Allison to her father, and took Stiles’s arm. Together they walked out into the back yard, arm in arm, Allison right behind them. Jordan was standing where the front row might be, with Mrs. McCall, Lydia’s mother, Malia, Kira, Isaac, and Stiles’s friend Heather. Derek, Erica, Boyd, and Cora stood on the other side, making up the other row. Mr. Stilinski had agreed to officiate, getting his certification online. It was the only way to do it, with everyone together. 

Lydia watched as her - and Mr. Argent, and all their friends - gave Allison to Scott. She had always been his, and he had always been hers, but now it was official. Lydia watched as they gave their vows, and kissed, and everyone cheered when the Sheriff announced that his son’s best friend, and the love of his life, were man and wife. 

When it was done, they ate and danced and sang awful karaoke, and laughed until it hurt. The night was perfect, no one talked about the pregnancy, and they all talked about the good times they’d had. New friends and old, all together, and it was everything that Lydia had ever wanted for her best friend.

The fact that Jordan was there to witness it was important, but not the most important thing. She liked that he was part of this, and grateful that he was there for her to dance with and laugh with. He made her smile, and Lydia didn’t want to think about what that might mean. They had a whole drive tomorrow, and she didn’t want to make things awkward. She wanted things to get better, but she didn’t know how much better.

Right now, she only wanted to think about tonight, and as another song started to play, she grabbed Jordan’s hand and pulled him onto the “dance floor”. Scott and Allison were swaying happily in a corner, Stiles and Malia were throwing candies at each other, and Cora was sitting in Isaac’s laugh. 

Everyone was together, and it was perfect.


	15. Back to Reality

The whole weekend had been a blur, and Jordan still wasn’t sure what had happened and who was who and why a Sheriff officiated the ceremony. The list of things he was uncertain of grew longer the more they were in Beacon Hills, but the list of things he was certain of stayed the same - Lydia Martin was one of the most intriguing girls he had ever met, she loved her best friend, she had a friend named Stiles who was weirder than his name, and Jordan had never felt more at home than when he was surrounded by these people. 

It was lucky for him that Lydia had been the maid of honor- it meant Jordan could stare at her as much as he wanted and everyone would think he was watching the ceremony. She looked like some kind of autumn princess in red and gray, and the love she had for her best friend lit her face up in a way he had never seen before. 

As he lay in the bed in the guest room after the wedding, Jordan had some time and some peace to think about what he’d just witnessed. It was clear that Scott and Allison were loved by a lot of people, and that sharing their wedding with them was important. They weren’t the kind of people who seemed to need fancy wedding dresses and tuxedos, or big dinners and open bars. Jordan had a lot of older sisters and had been to a lot of weddings, and he could safely say that this had been the happiest and the most heartfelt wedding he had ever seen. 

Morning came too soon. Rolling away from the offending light, Jordan groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. Why was it Sunday? Couldn’t it just be Saturday again, so that they could live that happiness again?

“Does that mean you don’t want coffee?”

Peeking out from underneath the pillow, Jordan saw Lydia hovering by the side of the bed at eye level. She swirled a cup of coffee near his nose, and reached for it clumsily. Lydia moved the cup out of the way and his hand fell, landing on her knee. Too sleepy to know better, he let it rest there for a moment and his thumb rubbed lazy circles on the soft fabric. 

Lydia froze, and he could have sworn he heard her breath hitch. There were a few more deliciously sleepy and warm seconds before she cleared her throat and Jordan woke up like he had been splashed in the face with ice water. Pulling the pillow off his head, he sat up quickly and realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt with his gym shorts. It seemed they had a habit of meeting like this, and Jordan would have cracked a joke if he wasn’t busy staring at Lydia staring at him. 

He looked away first, pawing around the crumpled sheets and blankets for where he had dropped his phone. When he looked back over, without his phone, Lydia was standing and put the mug on the side table. 

“There’s sugar and cream in the kitchen, if you want,” she said, sounding distracted. “Let me know when you want to leave, okay?”

After she left, Jordan threw himself back on the pillows, cursing his bad luck with Lydia. It seemed like he was doing everything wrong, but it was the only way Jordan knew how to do things. He hadn’t dated a lot in high school and wasn’t really sure how to flirt with a girl, if any of what they were doing might be flirting. If he had been any other kind of guy, he might have kissed Lydia last night. It certainly wouldn’t have been out of place among the happy couples, except that they weren’t a couple and Lydia might be happy with that but Jordan wasn’t sure he was. He wanted to ask her about that, ask what she felt about him and them but he felt like those questions would be unexpected and hasty. He wanted to be considerate of her feelings, whatever they were. 

Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t an option today, and Jordan forced himself to get up and get dressed, and brought the coffee cup down to the kitchen. There were spoons and cream and sugar on the island and jordan dumped as much sugar as he could stand in the coffee and stirred it before drinking it down in one shot. He was definitely going to need the caffeine today. 

Soon enough they were out the door and in the truck on their way back to Stanford. They were quiet as they drove out of town, the radio playing some pop station quietly in the background. If Jordan had to guess, neither of them wanted to break the spell and end the happiness of the day before. It had to end though, and Jordan felt like he was too loud when he asked for directions on getting back into the freeway. Lydia pointed him down the streets silently, and he wondered what was wrong. 

Luckily, he was given the opportunity ask when there was a gas station by the exit. Pulling into the parking lot, Jordan turned off the truck and turned in his seat to look at her.

“Lydia, what’s wrong?”

She wouldn’t look at him for a little bit, and Jordan took the risk of reaching over and wrapping his fingers gently around her wrist. “Please tell me. You were so happy yesterday, and now you aren’t.”

“I’m just tired, I guess,” she reassured him. “And I didn’t think I’d see Allison getting married for at least a few more years, and it’s one of those things that makes you freak out about what you’ve done in your life, you know? It’s sort of like watching all these 15 year olds in the Olympics and thinking that you haven’t accomplished anything. I know it’s not a competition, I just feel left behind a little.”

Jordan didn’t let go of her wrist, but was afraid of what might happen if he reached for her hand. He desperately wanted her to trust him with more than just housing problems, and this might be the first chance he had. 

“Do you want me to grab us some snacks and then you can talk about it, if you want?” he asked quietly. 

Lydia nodded, and drew her legs up to her chest, removing her wrist from Jordan’s light grip to wrap her arms around her legs - it was cold in the truck without the heater on, and he turned the truck back on before he went inside. 

Making a quick loop through the store, Jordan grabbed waters and an iced coffee, and picked out some snacks without looking - ending up with sour straws, candy corn, dried strawberries, and a pop tart. They weren’t his best choices, but all he could think about was getting back to Lydia and getting her to talk to him before she changed her mind. 

Back in the car, Lydia surprised him by going right for the sour straws, ignoring the coffee at the moment. They pulled onto the freeway and started driving, and Jordan set the cruise control before asking, “Ready to talk?”

She started talking slowly about high school - her classes, her boyfriend, meeting Allison, making friends with Scott and Stiles. Jordan heard about their first double date at the bowling alley, and then the winter formal where Scott had to sneak in and Allison wrangled Lydia into going with Stiles. It was the first night she realized that someone else saw how smart she was, and while she didn’t appreciate being yelled at by Stiles, she learned something that night. Winter formal was just the beginning - then there was her breakup with Jackson, ill-advised flirting with Stiles (that didn’t end well), meeting Issac, Boyd, Cora, and Erica, and getting to know Derek as he stopped being that “creeper who hung out at the high school” and turned into a friend and an “almost adult” mentor. Junior and senior year flew by in drama and sleepovers and college applications. Allison competed nationally as an archer, and Scott was dedicated to his work in the veterinarian office, and Stiles had a little too much interest in crime scenes. 

It was nice, hearing Lydia talk about her life with him. Jordan liked listening about her math classes and shopping for dresses with Allison and arguing about school politics with Stiles. He was having a hard time keeping track of all the names and who was friends with who, who had dated, and who was related, but he didn’t think he was doing too badly keeping up until he couldn’t anymore.

“So wait, Allison and Scott were together and then they broke up because of her dad and then she tried dating who? And who was that guy pining after? The sister of the guy he was living with?” he puzzled. 

Lydia laughed and shook her head. “Scott and Allison broke up because her dad didn’t approve and then her aunt and mom died in the same year and she went to France and when she came back they almost got back together but then she met Isaac and they started doing whatever they were doing, right? But then we found out that he was crashing at Derek’s and might have a thing for Cora, Derek’s sister, who might have had a thing for Stiles, who couldn’t stop staring at Erica- It was sort of like a Shakespeare play only worse because there were lacrosse games and awful cafeteria lunches.”

This web of people was dizzying and Jordan shook his head to clear it before reaching for the bag of candy corn, ripping it open with his teeth. They spent the rest of the ride talking - Jordan listened more than he talked - and stopped two or three times to stretch their legs. They had left fairly early for a Sunday, and by mid-afternoon they were fairly close to Stanford, but distracted by the restaurants they were passing, and Jordan decided it was time to stop for lunch. 

Jordan found a small diner just a few streets from the freeway exit, and pulled into the parking lot. It looked like the kind of place that served really strong coffee and apple pie with cheddar cheese slices on top - he liked it immediately.

A waitress found them a booth in the corner - one of those curved ones where you were practically sitting next to each other. Considering the wink she gave him as they left, she clearly thought they were  _together_ , and that she was doing them a favor. 

Their elbows fought for space on the small table as they flipped through the menu. Everything looked delicious and Jordan had no idea what to choose. Sneaking a glance at Lydia, she looked just as undecided. When the waitress came back, Jordan ordered the two things he was sure diners always had - a club sandwich with fries, and a strawberry milkshake. Lydia ordered a cheeseburger and a vanilla Coca Cola. 

Jordan sat quietly, rubbing at his eyes which were starting to hurt, and Lydia typed away on her phone, the  _tap tap_  noises of her touch screen the only noise that came from their corner of the diner. There was plenty of people watching to do in the diner, and Jordan watched a couple of truckers sitting at the counter. He could only catch every few words of what they were saying but it was enough to keep him interested until their food arrived. 

The first thing Jordan did was take some fries and dip them in his milkshake. He loved the combination of hot and cold, salty and sweet. He spent a few minutes in food heaven before he heard a gagging noise coming from Lydia. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, clearly disgusted. 

“You’ve never dipped french fries in a milkshake?” Jordan was shocked. “Have you been living under a rock your whole life?”

“Of course not! That’s disgusting though. What barn did you grow up in?”

“A barn full of people with good taste in milkshakes and french fries, I can tell you that,” he said with mock severity. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried it.”

Pulling a face, Lydia picked up one of her french fries and reached over, scooping up some strawberry milkshake on it. She made a kind of  _ick_  noise before eating it, and made another one after. “That is nasty.”

Laughing, Jordan shrugged. “Well, I guess nobody’s perfect.”

“Well you aren’t on the list of perfect people either for liking this kind of thing. It’s a good thing people like Orlando Bloom and George Clooney exist.”

In response, Jordan grinned, picked up a small french fry and threw it at her, before going back to eating his sandwich. They were too busy eating to talk and the time passed quickly. Jordan paid the bill and left a tip on the table before they got back in the truck.

They were driving for a while before Jordan looked over and asked, “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”

“I don’t know,” she answered thoughtfully. “Happy, I guess. My mom probably expects me to pick some college program that’s basically husband hunting - she’s never really had any expectations of me, or she hasn’t shared them. Why, what do you want to be?”

“A police officer.” Jordan’s answer was immediate. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, you know?”

“Even now, with all the stuff in the news? Doesn’t that just make the job look worse?”

He nodded. “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean everyone is bad. I try and be optimistic and think that it’s the bad apples with the loud voices that get on the news and that there are plenty of cops out there who do good things and they just don’t get talked about. I can’t let things like body cameras and news articles stop me, because if I did I wouldn’t be a good cop, you know?”

They lapsed back into silence, and now that they were driving on a clear stretch of road, Jordan looked over at Lydia. If he thought about it hard enough, he could still feel her soft skin under his fingertips from earlier, and he wanted to do that again - touch her arm or hold her hand, anything that let him feel closer to her. He focused on driving again, and tried not to think too much about the girl sitting next to him. 

All good things, including the weekend, had to come to an end, and soon they were seeing signs for Stanford University. Jordan followed the signs and turned off the freeway, making a few more turns until they were heading down the drive that went towards student housing. There was a parking garage under one of the apartment buildings that was permit only, and that was where Jordan kept the truck. 

Slowly, he went down the ramp into the parking garage and found his assigned spot in the far corner. Jordan turned off the truck and sat there, unwilling to go rejoin the student population and his co-workers just yet. Lydia, it seemed, felt the same way, because even though she had unbuckled her seat belt she hadn’t moved yet either. 

“I guess we have to go back to the dorms now,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Lydia agreed. She reached for the door handle and pushed on it, but it wouldn’t move. “My door is stuck!”

Scooting across the bench seat, Jordan moved towards Lydia’s side of the cab. “Do you mind?” He was asking for permission to try and see if he could get it open. Lydia nodded. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Reaching across her, he reached for the door handle and wiggled it. The latch still wouldn’t budge. “It’s an old truck,” he apologized. 

Looking at her, Jordan realized that this was the closest he had ever been to Lydia Martin. His nose was inches from hers and his arm was reaching across her torso, still grasping the door handle. 

“I guess you could slide across and get out on my side,” he said slowly. 

“Yeah, I could do that,” she agreed. “Hey Jordan? Thanks for coming with me this weekend.”

Jordan couldn’t think of anything to say in response, even though he knew ‘you’re welcome’ were the appropriate words. Instead he just looked at her. Lydia made even the yellow-ish lights of the parking garage look pretty, and he was mesmerized. 

“Can I-?” The question was vague, and Jordan wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking for. Whatever it was, he hoped she would say yes.

Lydia nodded, and Jordan leaned closer, his nose brushing against her cheek. He moved his hand that was still resting on the door handle to her knee, his thumb rubbing gentle circles much as he had this morning. His other hand moved to the back of her seat to brace himself. As slowly as he could force himself to move, Jordan placed a kiss on Lydia’s jaw, and then one on her cheek, and finally her lips. He was fairly sure he was shaking, but every feeling other than his lips on hers was lost to a rushing noise in his ears. 

At first, she didn’t move, but after a moment Lydia leaned closer into the kiss and opened her lips slightly, her teeth nipping at Jordan’s bottom lip. He felt Lydia’s hand on his waist, fingers on the bare skin that had been exposed between his t-shirt and jeans. It was a delicious feeling, and Jordan wrapped his arm around her waist as much as he could, pulling her closer. Their bodies shifted, Jordan pulling Lydia on top of him, and he moving to where she had been sitting. With Lydia’s knees on either side of his hips, Jordan ran his hands up and down her back, and slowly lower to the curve of her ass. They were still kissing, almost as an afterthought as their hands roamed over fabric and skin. 

Jordan pulled away slightly, his chest heaving as he breathed deeply, and kissed her neck, the space between her collarbones, and lower, along the neck of her t-shirt. Lydia pressed her body closer, and Jordan felt his hips jerk up towards her involuntarily as he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, trying to put all the longing and wanting he had been feeling into it. 

They both jumped and pulled apart as a car horn beeped somewhere in the space, as a student locked their car. Looking around, Jordan saw the windows had begun to fog up a bit, and he wondered how long they had been sitting there kissing. Leaning forward, he rest his head against her shoulder and sighed. 

“Back to real life?” he asked quietly. 

Lydia nodded, and moved towards the driver’s side door, sliding out and onto the ground. Grabbing her bag out of the bed of the truck, she went up the stairs that led to the courtyard between the buildings without looking at him.

Exhaling in frustration, Jordan let his head fall backwards, and ran his hand through his hair.

 _That had just happened._ He just kissed Lydia Martin, and she kissed him back - enthusiastically, if he wasn’t mistaken. It was more than he had ever hoped for, but it also made things a lot more confusing. He hadn’t even had a chance to ask her on a proper date before she’d left, and now he wasn’t sure when he would get a chance to. 


	16. Mondays

Monday morning was unpleasant - like a glass of ice water to the face after a really nice dream. Lydia wasn’t ready for the sunshine and the return to normalcy and classes and midterms.

_Oh god, midterms._

For the next month or so, every student would be in various stages of panic over tests that would seriously influence their grades before they were allowed to go home for Thanksgiving and a week without stress (hopefully) before a return to campus for finals. Lydia was taking five classes, and her midterms were spaced out in such a way that they started early and ended on a Wednesday, which meant a few extra days of vacation for her. All of those tests, and the other assignments that accompanied them, were the last thing on Lydia’s mind though. 

All morning, after she woke up, when she was in the shower, when she was picking out her clothes, and on her way down to breakfast, she was thinking about the fact that Jordan kissed her and that she had kissed him back. She hadn’t been expecting it, but it was nice. The thing that surprised her the most was that he asked her permission first. Who did that anymore? 

Lydia did what she had sworn she would never do, which was compare a guy to her ex boyfriends and flings. She had a moderate amount of experience to compare him to. There was Jackson and Aiden, the only remotely serious anythings that she’d had, and there were a handful of boys whose names she could no longer remember. They’d all been different and good to her in certain ways, but she hadn’t found a single way that Jordan was like any of them. Maybe it was because the only thing that had happened was that he’d been her date to her best friend’s wedding, and then he’d kissed her. 

It was a good kiss, she reasoned, if not a little... Vanilla. Lydia was open to experimentation to a certain degree, but wouldn’t consider herself wild by any means. She knew what wild was, she had Internet access, she read things. She wasn’t boring, but she wasn’t wild either. Jordan had seemed somewhere in the middle of that too, or maybe he was just hesitant - they had been sitting in the cab of his truck and that didn’t really offer a lot of movement.

And the truck - that was another thing. They weren’t in high school anymore, couldn’t he have waited until they were in their building and maybe pull her into his room? There was nothing wrong with some heavy making out on a bed, even the awkwardly uncomfortable dorm beds. Of course, judging by how nervous he’d seemed to be, maybe he wasn’t sure she would have said yes or done anything else with him. That must be it - he probably had less experience than she did. There was nothing wrong with that, and Lydia relished the idea of being a teacher. 

But that brought up another problem. Did she like him? He was attractive, he was attentive and listened to her, he was a gentleman, but Lydia wasn’t  _sure_. She wanted to be positive, because she knew she was past half-assed relationships that turned out to be nothing more than a glorified booty call. Lydia had promised herself that she wouldn’t get involved in anything serious during her first year, but this didn’t have to be serious. It could be fun but without any long term promises, no matter how much Jordan seemed like the long term kind of guy. 

This entire mental debate had happened while she nursed a cup of coffee and picked at her french toast and eggs without much interest. If Lydia was being honest with herself, she was waiting for Jordan and Clarke to come in for breakfast, because she wanted to talk to him in a public place where there would be no kissing or touching. When he did walk in, half a slice of french toast later, Lydia had to remind herself to be cool and casual. She was Lydia Martin, goddamnit, and she did not get goo goo eyes over boys, no matter how attractive. 

She watched while he and Clarke joked and talked, and then went their separate ways for food after picking a table in a remote corner of the dining center. As casually as possible, she got up and grabbed her coffee cup, Jordan was standing near the coffee machines - perfect. Downing the rest of her coffee, Lydia started pouring and doctoring a new cup, full almost to the brim with coffee, as much sugar as she could fit, and one cream. Every once in a while she would look up to make sure he was still nearby, and when she was certain she could talk, Lydia cleared her throat. 

Jordan looked at her like he had been waiting for an opening, and moved his plate over to the coffee table, where he started to make his cup.

“So,” Lydia said lightly, “I’d say I’m disappointed you haven’t called, but it hasn’t been three days and you didn’t ask for my number.” It meant to come out as a joke, but Lydia knew her sense of humor was more barbed and sarcastic than outright welcoming and funny. 

Jordan choked down a laugh. “Well, I would have called but I didn’t see what time it was when you left, so I wasn’t sure what time the three hour rule would kick in at. And as an equal opportunity texter, you didn’t ask for mine either.”

He reached for the sugar packets as Lydia reached for an extra stirring straw, and his fingers brushed her wrist before closing around it. She froze and wasn’t sure if she wanted to look at him or not move at all. As it turned out, she wouldn’t have to figure out what she wanted, because when Clarke walked in looking for Jordan, he let go of her wrist like he had been burned. Lydia didn’t take that reaction badly, and she found she felt more guilty than anything, even though nothing had happened. 

Before Jordan walked away to join Clarke, Lydia reached out and grabbed for him, missing slightly and grabbing the edge of his shirt. For a moment she was back in his truck again, reaching for him and feeling cool fabric and warm skin, and it was dizzying. Regaining her composure, Lydia held out her hand.

“Give me your phone,” she whispered. “Don’t ask, just hand it over. I have an idea.”

She must have looked convincing, because Jordan unlocked his phone and handed it over without asking any questions. As quickly as she could, Lydia typed in her phone number, saved the contact, sent a text to her phone with his first and last name, and then put an alert in his calendar - which luckily held his class times today.  “Coffee with Lydia” was now scheduled for eleven that morning.

Running after him, Lydia tried to look like she hadn’t just planned this.

“Jordan! Jordan! Hey, you left your phone on the counter!” Faking breathlessness, Lydia handed the phone over. She hoped he would figure it out before and not blow her cover. As he took the phone, his fingers brushed hers again, and Lydia smiled slightly. This just might work.


	17. Coffee Date

Lydia couldn’t have met his eyes for more than a second when she handed him his phone, but to Jordan it felt like that second had dragged out into a minute. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and just nodded as he took the phone and watched her walk out of the dining center into the overcast morning. 

Pocketing his phone, Jordan joined Clarke at the table and started to dig into his omelette - playing with his food more than actually eating it. There had gone his second chance at asking Lydia out on a proper date, and he stood there like an idiot. What was wrong with him? 

“What’s wrong with you?” Clarke looked up from her breakfast and was staring at Jordan with a squinty ‘I’m trying to read your mind’ expression. She reached out and started waving her hand in Jordan’s face. “You haven’t insulted my breakfast, and you do that every morning. And you don’t have cereal with chocolate milk, you have an omelette. What planet do you come from, alien, and what have you done with Jordan?”

He laughed, but the smile that accompanied it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just had a long weekend.” Jordan hadn’t told Clarke where he was going, just that he was going to be gone until Monday morning. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Clarke to know, and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but Jordan just wasn’t sure he wanted her to know  _everything_. He had a feeling this was going to mean a lot of borderline-obsessive questioning later on, and questioning what the hell he thought he was doing with a resident and what he wanted and all of that, but thinking about that right now wasn’t an option. 

Running a hand through his hair, Jordan sighed. “Remember how I told you about the potentially life altering problem with a girl? Well the life altering problem is now an actual problem because I spent all week with her. Please don’t ask questions. I’m pretty much ruining it without trying because I’m me.”

“And there’s the Jordan we know and love to make fun of. Come on, Boy Scout, life altering? You’re being dramatic,” Clarke said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It can’t be that serious, you haven’t even kissed her- You haven’t right? Because you know that’s one step towards possibly losing your job.”

Jordan couldn’t look at her, and instead stared at his coffee cup like it held the answer to what the meaning of life is. If he looked at Clarke, his face would give away everything. He wasn’t a good liar, Jordan knew that, and his boss said that was part of why they had hired him - he was so honest and so bad at lying that they hoped he would be a good influence and be less likely to take part in the inevitable housing politics. That honesty wasn’t serving him so well, right about now.

“Shut up,” she breathed. “Damn Parrish, did you? You did, oh man, you did. Is she a good kisser? Did you cop a feel? Please let me live vicariously through you.”

“I’m not talking about this. No questions, remember? This conversation never happened,” he said miserably. “But I did, I did, no I’m not letting you, end of story. That’s it.”

Clarke frowned at him. “How is it right when your life finally gets interesting you get all don’t kiss and tell?”

That was when he looked up, and he glared at his friend. “Because I am not  the Douchebag Fuckboy who talks about this in explicit detail to anyone who’s around to listen. And I like privacy. You would too if you were facing this kind of... Problem.”

She snorted in reply. “If I was facing your problem I would have have hooked up with them already and that’s it. No relationships with residents, remember? The rules doesn’t talk about one night stands, but it’s pretty clear on doing anything with your own residents - ‘tis better to be feared than to be loved, my friend.”

Maybe Clarke could live that way, but Jordan couldn’t. He knew there were plenty of people who worked this job that hooked up with students - on campus or off - and that was the extent of their relationships during their jobs. That wasn’t how Jordan was, though, it wasn’t how he functioned. 

By the time they were done with their breakfast, Jordan and Clarke were quiet, preferring the silence to awkward questions and difficult topics. It felt like they couldn’t wait to get to class, ready to have something else to focus on. Those classes were in the same building this morning, and they walked together, splitting up on the first floor when Clarke went to the lecture hall, and Jordan went up to the third floor for his case law class. 

At ten thirty, when his class was dismissed, Jordan’s phone beeped with an alert he wasn’t familiar with - he had an appointment on his calendar. “Coffee with Lydia” was on his phone screen. That must have been what she put on his phone when she asked for it. Shortly after he dismissed the alert he received a text message:

text from: Lydia M.  
coffee shop in the student center. meet you there at eleven.

Jordan felt a smile tug at his lips, and he fought to keep the stupid look from reaching his face. This meant something, this proved something to him. He wasn’t wrong about Lydia, and she wanted to meet him. This was the first thing that she had initiated without any pressure and without needing help. This was her asking him to meet her for coffee - about what, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Things felt a lot less one-sided now, and now Jordan found find out if she was okay with him kissing her, and maybe if she wanted him to kiss her again. 

He spent the next half an hour sitting in the student center, near the coffee shop but not close enough that he would feel weird not ordering a coffee yet. It was loud in there, and Jordan tried not to think too hard about the fact that they would be meeting in a very public place. Did Lydia want to tell him something upsetting but do it publicly so he wouldn’t make a scene? What was the reasoning for picking a place so out of the way? Did she have a class near here? The student center itself was so far from housing, and he was worried the conversation he was about to have wouldn’t be nice. 

Five minuets to eleven, Jordan ordered two coffees and grabbed a handful of creams and sugars, and picked a table. As someone who wanted to be a cop, Jordan knew that it was a good habit to pick a seat where you could keep an eye on any entrances and exits. It was difficult to do in a building that had so many doors that he couldn’t see, and placing himself with his back to the coffee counter was the best he could do. Lydia walked in and Jordan stood up, unsure of how to get her attention. He didn’t need to worry, though, because she saw him and made a beeline for the table. Jordan sat down after she did, and pushed one of the coffees her way.

“I got you a coffee,” he said, stating the obvious. That was a great start, Jordan. Good job.

Looking down at the paper cup and the pile of sugar packets on the table, Lydia smiled. “I can see that. Did you also buy stock in the Sugar Cane company?” She tore the corner off of six of the sugar packets and poured, mixing her drink with a small stirring straw.

This wasn’t doing much to put him at ease. “I know you like a lot of sugar in your coffee, but I wasn’t sure how much, and I-”

Reaching across the table, Lydia held out her hand, waiting for Jordan to take it. “Jordan, I’m not here to tell you to fuck off, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jordan looked at her first in disbelief, and then relief. Slowly, giving Lydia time to reconsider, he reached out and placed his hand gently on hers. When she didn’t move away, Jordan adjusted his grip so his fingers were laced through hers. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything last night when you left. I guess I was too shocked that that actually happened,” he confessed. “I wanted to do things right, ask you on a date, take you somewhere nice, not corner you in my truck.”

Lydia shook her head sadly at him. “I didn’t mind. Maybe you do, but I don’t. I... Liked kissing you. And I liked talking to you and going to Allison’s wedding with you, and dancing with you. And I’d like to have coffee with you, if you weren’t being so fatalistic.”

He wasn’t deterred, and was resolved to get through what he knew he had to say. “Lydia, I liked going with you too. I liked seeing your friends and family and traveling with you. I really liked kissing you. I’d like to do it again. But that’s a really bad idea, because there’s this sort of unspoken rule that Resident Assistants don’t get into relationships with residents, especially their own.”

“Serious relationships, or any kind of relationship?” she asked calmly. 

“Anything. There are RAs who hook up with residents, or with each other, but getting involved with a resident is... frowned upon.”

Lydia looked like she was considering it, which Jordan was thankful for, even though he had a sinking guilty feeling. He realized that be telling her he was working against his own selfish interests, but it was the fair and honest thing to do and he wouldn’t put Lydia under that kind of pressure and scrutiny, not even if she was willing to do that. He liked her too much to expect nothing but hook ups from her. 

“Well,” Lydia sounded thoughtful. “There’s nothing bad about hook ups. Sexual relationships aren’t something to be ashamed of. And I think that I’d like that very much with you. But I also like the other things - talking and laughing and that sort of thing. How hard would it be to go places away from housing and spend time together?”

Jordan stared at her incredulously. Was she seriously proposing a secret sort-of-relationship? His mouth dropped open a little as he tried to find the words, and found that he couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t,  _Are you crazy?_

“Jordan, you do a great fish impression, but I’m asking a question.” 

He decided to go for it. “Lydia, are you serious? This is crazy! There are a ton of people who work for housing, not just RAs. If someone sees I could get in trouble, and you could get in trouble, and I could lose my job and they might threaten to do any sort of thing to you, I don’t know. And aren’t secret relationships a little cliche? Those never work in the movies.”

“Movies? Seriously? Jordan, is that your only base for unusual relationships? Because if we both want it to work, then it will work. And there’s something to be said for interpersonal relationships and stress relief, especially with finals coming up.”

Jordan was still amazed that Lydia was approaching the whole situation like this. It must have showed on his face, because Lydia looked like she was ready to either pat him on the head or hug him, or who knew what else. She only squeezed his hand, and looked at him like she pitied his lack of experience - which was too true to be embarrassed about. 

“You know, Allison has a way of approaching things that can get messy. Her mom taught her to be ‘clinical and unemotional’. It’s how she stays focused during competitions and how she deals with tough situations like helping her dad after her mom died. It can be useful when you use it properly,” Lydia explained. “And when I look at the logistics of spending time with you, spending time away from the dorm makes sense. That is, if you want to go on a real date with me. Do you?”

“Of course I do,” he sputtered. “I’ve wanted to for a long time, Lydia. I’d like to take you to dinner, and get coffee with you, and study for finals in the library with you. I’d like that very much, but I want to make sure that you know that keeping this from my co-workers is going to be difficult. If you’re okay with that, then I’m okay with that.”

Lydia smiled, and Jordan was reminded of the phrase ‘the cat that ate the canary’. It was the smile of a girl who got her way and wanted you to know it, and it made him go weak at the knees a little bit. She stood up slightly and leaned across the table, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Great. Netflix, your place, Thursday night if you aren’t working. You aren’t by the way, I checked that day when I grabbed your phone earlier. I know neither of us have class early Friday morning, so expect quality time. I’ll bring snacks. Now, I have to go to class, and then lunch. See you later?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before picking up her bag and her coffee, and leaving Jordan with a wink. Did that just happen? Jordan wasn’t sure how he got wrangled into a date night without actually asking, but it seemed like Lydia knew what she was doing, and what she wanted. She was a girl in charge, and as Jordan watched her leave, he realized he was way in over his head, and hoped like hell no one would try throwing him a life raft. 


	18. Date Night

Like most people, Lydia was a fan of the ‘fake it till you make it’ approach to life - but not to orgasms or math tests - and spent the week acting like nothing was different. She went to class, went to dinners with Christine, went to yoga classes and even had lunch with Madison once, all without making goo goo eyes at Jordan if she saw him, and never saying anything more than the polite greeting that was expected when you ran into your RA in public. Not one to obsess over things not academically related or to wallow in feelings, Lydia continued on much the way she had before she told Jordan they had a date on Thursday. 

Until it was Thursday.

Lydia spent most of the day in a dizzy sort haze of apprehension and excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she was nervous about a date, and figured that it was because she hadn’t been on a date in so long, and not with a guy who was older and who she wasn’t supposed to be spending time in the first place. Logically, Lydia understood the attraction of doing something you weren’t supposed to do, and was sure that was part of her attraction to Jordan. That was probably why she wondered what she should wear, if she should be wearing a lot of makeup or a little, if she should bring popcorn - knowing that if she did kiss her, she didn’t want a popcorn kernel stuck in her teeth - and how secretive she should be. Would it be a bad idea to tell Christine or Madison? Would she have to check to see if the hallway was empty as she left her room, and then later his? The logistics were piling up at an alarmingly fast rate, but Lydia knew there was nothing she could do but cross each bridge until she got there.

It probably wasn’t in her best interest to tell Christine, and that keeping things low key would be better to avoid raising suspicion. They went to dinner at the usual time, and when Lydia came back she changed out of her dress she wore to class that day and put on her comfiest jeans - which happened to be a little too long - and a t-shirt that hung off one shoulder a little. She wanted to be sexy without looking like she was trying too hard, or like she was expecting anything, and for the first time Lydia found it was difficult to maintain that balance and happy medium. For years all she wore was dresses and skirts and was completely done up whenever she went out. How was it that she wasn’t sure how to be casual without being a mess? It probably didn’t involve thinking too much about how not to look like you were thinking too much. 

At nine o clock, Lydia opened her door and looked out into the hallway - it was quiet, and no one was around. Reaching behind her, Lydia grabbed her laptop and her charger, and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door as quietly as possible behind her. It was a short two steps do Jordan’s door, and she knocked twice quietly. 

When the door opened, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his room. It was a cartoon moment, and if Lydia hadn’t been so shocked, she might have laughed when it happened. She was sure it was something to laugh about later, but at the moment she was tucked up against Jordan’s side, and she looked up at him with surprise.

“You weren’t kidding about the secret stuff, were you?” 

Jordan looked down at her, and seemed to realize how closely he was holding her, and that he still had a tight grip on the door knob. He let go of the door knob like it had burned him, and took a small step away from Lydia. 

“Sorry, I just a little nervous,” he blurted out - something he appeared to think better of after he’d said it. 

Lydia laughed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Calm down. It’s just Netflix. I’m pretty sure the wedding counted as an awkward first date, so it’s not like you have to worry about that.”

“Right,” Jordan breathed. “Nothing to worry about. Absolutely worry free. Sure...”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia looked around the room. She was surprised that: a) it wasn’t messy, b) it didn’t smell like what she thought a boy’s room would smell like, and c) it was actually decorated. When she spied the futon against the wall, Lydia handed her laptop to Jordan.

“What are you doing?” Jordan’s question was painfully obvious, and Lydia didn’t answer. She pulled the futon away from the wall and pulled on the back of it, until she heard a click and it fell, flattening out. 

“I figure the bed is probably a bad idea,” she said with the tone of a girl whose plan was going smoothly, “so Netflix, plus futon, plus pillows equals a good Thursday night. And Thursday isn’t technically what I’d call a date night, so no pressure, right?”

He nodded and handed back her laptop, before pulling a power strip out from under the nearby desk. While he did that, Lydia grabbed pillows off his bed, and laid on her stomach. Opening the laptop in front of her, she connected to the internet and pulled up Netflix. What would he want to watch? And more importantly, what was there a lot of?

“So I guess the first question is, are there any shows you really don’t want to watch?” she asked, still scrolling through the options on her screen. When she thought about it, she knew some things about Jordan, but not the important things - like if he was a democrat or a republican, if he was a feminist, if he liked Sense8 or Orange is the New Black or House of Cards. 

“Well, do you want to watch a movie or a tv show?” he countered. “Because if you’re going to say no Disney movies ever, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider this.”

At that comment, Lydia looked over her shoulder at him. “No Disney movies? What kind of heathen do you think I am? My nickname wasn’t Ariel for nothing, you know.” 

Her ribs were starting to hurt already from laying on her stomach on the uncomfortable futon, and Lydia sat up, crossing one leg under her other knee. Nothing had popped up on Netflix yet that she really wanted to watch, or watch again. The futon squeaked as Jordan sat down behind her, and looked over her shoulder. She was scrolling through the “our picks for you” option, which included documentaries, oddball movies, tv shows, and even some cartoons. When Sense8 came up, Jordan leaned forward into Lydia’s shoulder and pointed at the screen.

“How about that one?”

Lydia looked over her shoulder, about to ask if Jordan knew what the show was about, and if he was really sure he wanted to watch something so... Different. The words died on her lips as she registered just how close Jordan actually was. Her nose almost bumped his, and they both froze. Lydia could remember, very vividly, what had happened the last time they were this close. 

“This isn’t going to be much of a movie night date,” she breathed, “if you keep getting close enough to kiss me every time I turn around. Not that I necessarily mind.”

Jordan nodded, but didn’t move away. “Maybe the next one should be at an actual movie theater. At least then there’s arm rests between seats.”

If this was going to be purely a hook up thing, Lydia didn’t mind. At least then they could get rid of the pretenses and cut straight to what they wanted, but she had said movie date, not make out session. Lydia had been in relationships that were strictly hook ups and booty calls, and she didn’t regret them or feel cheap for fulfilling her needs - she was confident enough in her sexuality to know that there was nothing wrong with that. Jordan, though, might not share the same ideas, and might want an actual dating relationship. They hadn’t talked about that, not yet, so movie night it was. 

Lydia turned back to her laptop with a sign, and clicked on Sense8 to start playing the the first episode. She had already seen the show, so she could answer any questions he might have - and Lydia was sure there would be a lot of questions. 

As the opening credits started to play, Lydia reached to her right, and pulled up the side of the futon to a comfortable low angle, and leaned against it, stuffing a pillow under her arm. Jordan mimicked her, resting his elbow on the raised edge, and his chin in his hand, and as soon as he was comfortable, Lydia leaned back to settle against his chest. The first episode went a lot like she thought it would, with Jordan asking lots of questions and gesturing with his free hand when it wasn’t resting on her hip, toying with the edge of her shirt. Lydia answered what she could without giving anything away, mostly explaining who was who and where they were in the world. 

The second episode was much of the same, with Jordan asking questions, and Lydia occasionally pausing the episode to answer when it was more than one or two words. Jordan was mostly interested in how someone could lock Nomi away and get away with it, and seemed to be interested in Sun and her “secret powers” as they watched the third episode. In addition to being an interested watcher, Jordan was also an active one - shifting, moving, jumping slightly like he wanted to celebrate every punch landed or every secret uncovered. It was clear he was trying to restrain himself because Lydia was there, but she noticed that every time he tried to keep still and still moved, his hand didn’t quite end up back where it had started on her hip - and after a few probably unconscious movements, Jordan’s hand had ended up lower than her hip, his fingers almost a little too close to- Lydia couldn’t even think.. She was sure he wasn’t aware of what he was doing, but she certainly was, and Lydia scooted back towards him, pressed against him and imagining his hand against her skin, rather than against the denim of her jeans.

It was almost the end of the third episode when Lydia paused the playback. She didn’t say anything, and placed her hand on top of Jordan’s. It took a moment, but he realized where his hand was, and tried to pull away, but Lydia wouldn’t let him. Burying his face in her shoulder, Jordan let out a sigh.

“Would it be horrible and cliche if I said I didn’t realize what I was doing? Because I really wasn’t thinking about...  _that_. God, I am so sorry, Lydia, I swear I am not a sex obsessed pervert. I mean I am a college guy, but that’s not the same thing.” 

Lydia felt a smile tug at her lips as she slowly closed her laptop, and then moved Jordan’s hand from her leg. She didn’t want to give him another chance to apologize when it wasn’t necessary. Shifting her weight, Lydia turned around and pushed Jordan back against the futon, her hand on his chest to keep him from moving.

“Jordan Parrish, if you keep apologizing for things you don’t need to, I am going to have to find some way to shut you up,” she threatened. “And yes, you might like it, but then we won’t get to finish watching this episode, and that would be a shame.”

It was probably an impossible choice - watch people kick ass, or potentially cop a feel. Lydia had a feeling that most boys would ask why not both? and try and have their cake and eat it too. 

“As tempting as that offer is, I don’t want you to think that I- that that’s who- that that’s all I want.”

“And what if that’s what I want?” Lydia countered.

This seemed to sharpen Jordan’s focus a bit, and his eyebrows pulled together slightly as he frowned. Lydia wondered if this had occurred to him, that she would be okay with a strictly physical relationship, and if that changed how Jordan thought of her as a person. She found that him thinking any less of her bothered her, and bothered her a lot. 

Jordan’s expression made Lydia nervous, so she started talking before he could. “Jordan, I’m an adult. And I’m educated. I know that plenty of people have physical chemistry and not much else, and that’s okay for them. I’m secure enough in how I value myself to admit that I have had those relationships because I am human and human have needs - it’s Maslow’s Hierarchy, if you’ve read about that. And I want you to know that I don’t think any less of myself for that, and I hope you don’t either. And that if that is what you want this to be, that is okay. And that if you want more, that is also okay. I just want to know what you want.”

It was torture, waiting for Jordan to say something. He looked stunned, and Lydia slowly pulled her hand back from where it had been, worried that this had all been a mistake, and that he was reconsidering everything. She  _had_  just dumped a lot of words on him, and maybe he was that person who couldn’t deal with how she thought of herself. Lydia had met a few of those people over the years, and been insulted by them too, and Jordan had seemed different. Maybe he wasn’t.

He looked... hurt. Or insulted. Lydia wasn’t sure it was a good sign, and she waited for whatever words were coming.

“Lydia,” he sighed, “I’m not nearly as experienced with relationships of any kind as you are.  I don’t know what I want other than you. Just you. That’s all I want, however it comes packaged. You know what I got out of everything that you just told me? That you are more educated, more mature, and more confident than a lot of other people I know. Does it scare me that you have significantly more relationship experience than me? No. Does it intimidate me? Hell yes, it does.”

“I still don’t know what you want.” Lydia hated how quiet and weak her voice sounded. She had always hated sounding like that, and wished she could sound more certain.

“Does that matter right now? Because right now what I think is most important is spending time with you. If I get to kiss you, then that’s great. If all you want to do is go to lunch or watch movies and nothing else, that’s okay too. I want to spend time with you, in any way you want.”

She thought about it for a moment, trying to decide what she wanted. Maybe she didn’t know right now either. Would it be so bad to see how things went without clear definitions? Usually, Lydia knew what she wanted and where things were going, but this was college, the age of trying new things. Maybe this was her first new thing. 

“What I want,” she said decisively, “is to finish watching this episode. And maybe we’ll watch the next one. And then when I leave, I want you to kiss me goodnight... If you want.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jordan agreed. 


	19. Mystery Date

Midterms in the dorms were tough. It wasn’t finals week, so there weren’t any special noise rules or curfews, and some students ran around screaming and laughing because it was almost vacation, and some were hunkered down in their rooms with Red Bulls and coffee while they studied for tests that weighed more heavily in their classes than was sane. It was anarchy, and Jordan was flooded with complaints from residents who were trying to study while their neighbors blasted EDM on Sunday nights. 

He could only take so many days before it was too much, and on Wednesday morning, he slipped a note under Lydia’s door.

Lydia,  
Meet me at the student center at 5. Dress warm, we’ll be outside.  
                    - Jordan

They could probably use a break from being on campus and being in the dorms, and Jordan had heard that there were a couple shows off campus that they could take a bus too - which was a godsend, because Jordan hated driving in the fog unless he could help it. 

He was early - a habit from high school where coaches would yell at them  _If you aren’t five minutes early, you’re late!_  and make them run laps. It was a habit that didn’t make him popular at parties, or wouldn’t if he actually went to parties. As it was, it was a habit that made for nervous date nights. The longer he stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, the more nervous he got, wondering if Lydia would actually show up. 

Standing under a pool of light from a campus street lamp, he heard her coming before he saw her. Heeled boots clacked along the pavement, echoing around the quad. Lydia was wearing some sort of trench coat thing, only prettier. A beanie, jeans and tall boots completed the outfit, and the effect of the entire thing was breathtaking. The plan was to go right to the bus stop, and Jordan didn’t want to be late. Grabbing Lydia’s hand, he pulled her along.

“Ready for a real date?” he grinned, kissing her cheek. 

“Well, I don’t know,” she quipped. “It’s awfully hard to get ready for a date when I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you look fine,” Jordan reassured her.

They made it to the bus stop with minutes to spare, and Jordan rest his back against the side of the cover over the waiting bench, Lydia in front of him leaning back against his chest. He played with her hair while they waited, wrapping tendrils of her hair around his fingers. It was a short bus ride once they had boarded, and were dropped off right in front of a music club.

Lydia looked at him quizzically. “You could have told me if we were going to a club.”

He shook his head before saying, “We’re not... Well, not really. Come on.”

After paying for their tickets, Jordan took her hand again, led her up stairs - one flight, and then another, before they reached a plain metal door. Turning around to grin at her, Jordan pushed open the door.

The rooftop garden had been transformed - potted trees pushed to the edge of the room were strung with patio lights and a stage was set up at the far end where a band was in the middle of a song. Sound pressed against Jordan’s ears like a wall, and Lydia looked bewildered as she stood next to him. 

“It’s a local band,” he shouted. “Good stuff, easy to dance to.You want anything to drink?”

Lydia shook her head, but seemed to have warmed to the idea of a music show, and pulled Jordan into the crowd. The band started a new song and Lydia watched them for a moment, listening carefully. Once she had the beat, she started dancing along the way you do at a live show - mostly in place, jumping up and down and the like. Jordan could only watch her, mesmerized by how quickly she took to the music, and how she looked standing in the middle of the crowd dancing, like she didn’t have anything to worry about. That sort of self confidence was amazing, he thought, and wondered how on earth she did it. 

The show passed in a blur. Jordan wasn’t much of a dancer, but he knew a lot of the songs and jumped and sang along with the rest of the crowd. Lydia seemed to be just as enthusiastic, and they were both slightly out of breath by the time the show was ending. There was a table with water bottles in one corner, and Jordan grabbed two of them, bringing one to Lydia where she had been sitting. Their breath made clouds in the cold night air, and Lydia had taken her jacket off. Still not used to the sight of her - or at least, feeling like he was allowed to stare at the sight - Jordan took full advantage of not being on campus and admired her. It wasn’t just the way Lydia dressed. That was nice, but it was more than that. It was the way she carried herself, the way she acted. It was everything that was “Lydia”, and Jordan liked it... a lot. 

“You’re staring.”

Train of thought interrupted, Jordan almost denied it, but didn’t see the point in trying. “Yeah, I was.”

“Do you want to tell me why?” she asked. 

There was no way Jordan could explain it without sounding like a total idiot - but then, as Clarke would tell him, he was an idiot already, so why not go for broke? “Because you sort of amaze me, and I think if I stare at you long enough I’ll figure out how to be like you. Confident and all that stuff.”

Lydia didn’t answer, but looked at him with an eyebrow raised. Jordan figured that if he were her, saying that a magician never reveals their secrets would be an appropriate answer, but the silence he got in return worked just as well. 

It was late when they left, but not so late that the buses stopped running. The show had only lasted a couple hours - three at most - and most students were leaving by the time they returned to campus. This wasn’t something Jordan had accounted for, and realized too late that there was a good chance they would be seen by another RA. Wednesdays weren’t exactly a big party night for residents, but there were plenty of co-workers ready to gossip. 

By some stroke of luck, Lydia noticed his silent panic and pulled him into the library - the nearest building. The coffee shop was open and Lydia bought them each a tea, ignoring Jordan’s protests that he should pay for them. All of the tables surrounding the coffee shop were taken, and they took the stairs up to the second floor, which was also full of students. Lydia exhaled in frustration and they took one more flight of stairs - still full. The fourth floor was the only one empty, and half the lights were off. 

“Finally, some peace,” she muttered.

There was very little furniture on this floor of the library, but they found a scarcely furnished study room with a desk and a swivel chair. Lydia sat on the desk, crossing one leg over the other, and Jordan sat in the chair backwards, leaning on the back rest with his arms crossed over it. Face flushed with embarrassment, Jordan opened his mouth to apologize, by Lydia held up her hand to stop him before he did.

“Look, I don’t know what that was back there, but it looked like your brain overheated and stopped working. If you’re going to freeze up every time you see someone who might recognize us, then you’re going to be looking over your shoulder every time we go anywhere or even run into each other in the dining hall.” She wasn’t saying anything untrue, and the reality of it all stung Jordan. 

Lydia deserved better than sneaking around, and he knew that. His own cowardice was causing this problem. There were plenty of RAs who did things they technically weren’t supposed to do, and they were fine. It was all a matter of believing you could get away with it, right? Or maybe just a combination of luck and timing.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and you deserve better than that. I like you, Lydia, a lot. If we’re going to do this, we should figure out a way to do it so that neither of us get in trouble. I like my job, but I can’t let it run my life all the time.”

“So what are you going to do about?” It was a question and a challenge, and Lydia looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.

Jordan took a few moments to think about it. It was one thing to say the words, and another thing entirely to mean it and to act on it. “I’m going to not be so paranoid, except maybe for in the dorm buildings. I’m going to invite you to have lunch or something with me and Clarke - because I think you’d like her. I’m going to keep asking you on dates, and if I’m very lucky I’m going to kiss you at the end of those dates,” he said with conviction. Now all he had to do was act on that. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Lydia’s lips when she said, “Well, I think you can do at least one of those things right now, since we just went on a date.”

The invitation was crystal clear, and Jordan could take a hint. Setting his tea down on the floor, Jordan walked slowly to the desk where Lydia was sitting. He took the paper cup out of her hand and set it on the far edge of the desk, and then pulled her jacket - with her beanie in the pocket - off her shoulders and folded it in half, laying it next to the cup. Placing his hands on her knees, Jordan gently pushed her legs apart and he stepped closer. 

Without breaking eye contact, Jordan reached behind Lydia and placed his hands on the back of her hips, pulling her towards the edge of the table and closer to him. He slid his hands up her sides. As his thumbs trailed over the swell of her breasts, Lydia shivered, and made an impatient noise before wrapping her legs around his waist and kissed him roughly. Taking the hint, Jordan tangled his fingers in her hair at the base of her scalp and tugged gently, experimentally. Judging by Lydia’s sharp intake of breath and the way her hands knotted in the fabric of his shirt, it was something she liked. 

Breaking away from the kiss, Jordan moved to her neck, searching for Lydia’s sensitive spot. When he found it - just below her left ear - her moan sent a bolt of heat through him, and he moved one hand to her waist to steady her as his hips bucked forward against hers. Jordan continued to kiss and suck and nip at that spot, and Lydia pulled his shirt up in the back, slipping her hands down the back of his jeans and boxers to grab his ass. The feeling of her hands on his bare skin was enticing and he wanted more. 

Jordan leaned back to pull his shirt off, and at the same time Lydia took hers off and dropped it on top of his on the floor. He pushed her bra strap out of the way and kissed her shoulder, and left a trail of kisses down towards her breasts. Trailing his kisses lower, Jordan dipped his tongue inside her bra, teasing her nipple.

“Oh god,” she breathed. “Fuck, that feels good.  _Please_.” Hearing those words encouraged him, and Jordan pulled the rest of the fabric down to take her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking. At the same time, he pulled down the other side of her bra and teased that nipple with his fingers, rolling it gently between his fingertips. 

Lydia wasn’t holding back, moaning and breathing heavily, and Jordan loved it. He loved the noises she made, the little whimpering sounds and the way her breath caught in her throat, and he wanted to make her do it again, only louder. He pushed his hips against hers harder, insistently, and moaned, his mouth still on her breast, at the friction as she moved against him, their hips grinding together. 

She was saying his name, breathing it almost, and Jordan moved his mouth to the sensitive skin under her breast as Lydia arched her back. There was a spot, he discovered, nearly as sensitive as her neck, and Jordan kissed it and nipped at it greedily, wanting to mark her as his. She begged him to keep going and he did, until Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into another searing kiss. Her warm breasts, still wet from his kisses, pressed against his chest as she kissed him, biting at his bottom lip and sucking on it hard. She wasn’t being gentle with him, and Jordan picked her up and pressed her against the wall next to the desk. Lydia wound her fingers in his short hair and pulled his head to the side slightly to bite gently at his earlobe.

“Jordan,” she murmured over his moan. “This is  _not_  an after date kiss.”

“I know,” came his whispered reply against the skin of her jaw. “You started it.”

After a few more minutes of intense making out, pressed against the wall, Lydia was also the one that ended it. Unwrapping her lets from around him, she pressed her hands against his chest, so he set her down as gently as he could. Eyeing the bulge in the front of his jeans, Lydia pressed against him one last time for a kiss. 

“I might kiss on the first date,” Lydia said breathlessly, “But that’s about as far as it goes... for now.”

Lydia was so beautifully messy and tousled that it took a minute for the words to sink in, but when they did, Jordan nodded. Bending down, he picked up their shirts and handed Lydia hers before pulling his own on. He helped her with her jacket and pulled the beanie over her messy hair, and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. 

“Shall we call it a night, my lady?” he asked with a mock bow, holding out his arm. Laughing, Lydia took it and he escorted her back to the dorm, not stepping away from her until they were in the elevator - the enclosed space was just too tempting.

They said goodnight at their doors, and Jordan couldn’t help but suppress a horribly goofy grin. Lydia rolled her eyes and waved him off, closing the door behind her.


End file.
